


Splintering in Slow Motion

by cyndrarae



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Disorder, Barebacking, Bottom Jared, Depression, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Infidelity, Post-Divorce, Rimming, Suicide Attempt, Supernatural and J2 Big Bang Challenge 2016, Top Jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-25 08:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7526416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyndrarae/pseuds/cyndrarae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared has been fighting the ‘darkness’ for as long as he can remember, until he can’t, or doesn’t want to anymore. He decides to treat himself to one final weekend of fun before laying down his arms, so to speak. The last thing he expects is a gatecrasher, someone who might derail his best-laid plans for good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The paradises we have lost

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Thank you [cherry916](http://cherry916.livejournal.com/) and [shalooney](http://shalooney.tumblr.com/) for your mad and thorough beta skills. All mistakes are my inability to incorporate all the great feedback from you!  
> 2\. Thanks also to [milly-gal](http://milly-gal.livejournal.com/) for stepping up as my pinch hitting artist despite your multiple commitments, and for creating such FANTASTIC artwork. You’ve been so patient and so encouraging, and I may not still understand what layers are, but I do know you’re incredibly gifted and you have a big, generous heart. So thank you hon :)  
> 
> 
>   **Here's a link to her[gorgeous artwork](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14731613) \- please do visit and give her lots of love!!**  
> 
> 
>   
>  3\. All characters in this story are entirely fictitious, only inspired by actors on the CW series Supernatural. Not written for profit, only meant to be a creative outlet, and free for enjoyment by all.  
> 4\. I’m not a medical expert, so please note the description of the disorders mentioned are from the perspective of a sufferer, not a doctor.  
> 5\. What else… um, as with all my stories, I wrote this because I wanted to read it. Having said that, it’s always nice to hear from other readers, so, hope you give this a shot!  
> 

 

 

**September 30, 2016**

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

The Chedi Andermatt is the last thing on his bucket list.

It was Jensen’s favorite place to vacation on the planet. It’s the name of the hotel they stayed at for their very first getaway as a couple. Switzerland is the first ever country he visited outside the States, thanks to Jensen. This is also where Jensen got down on one knee before him and proposed.

Naturally, this is where the story must end.

He checks in on a Friday evening, having traveled for over twenty hours to get here. It wasn’t as easy to get here this time, probably because it’s the first time he’s come here by himself.

For one, there are no non-stop flights from Austin to Zurich, like there are from JFK. Then the first flight he’s on gets delayed, takes twelve hours instead of nine. Then he misses his connecting at Heathrow, and the stopover stretches from three to six hours. When he finally lands in Zurich, he doesn’t trust himself to drive down the winding mountain roads as well as Jensen could. So he waits for the right train to Lucerne, which takes another three hours.

He isn’t complaining though, too much. He’s just excited to have finally made it here. He’s been looking forward to this trip for _ever_ , and the wait is going to be so worth it.

He doesn’t let the bell boy get his bag out of the cab, it’s just one duffel bag for God’s sake. He bounces into the warmth of the large and lavish lobby, and makes his way to the concierge desk. That is where he spots him.

“Misha, hey!” He calls out to the hotel manager.

A sharply-dressed and criminally handsome man looks up from his computer and his face quickly melts into a wide, alluring, grin.

“Ah, Jared, finally! Welcome back to the Chedi, my friend!”

“Thank you, buddy! So good to see you, it’s been a while.”

Jared contemplates hugging him but decides against it at the last minute. If Misha expects it, he hides it well. The man has always been closer to Jensen than to Jared anyway, surely he didn’t even notice.

“I’m glad you finally managed to get away for a weekend. We’ve missed you!”

“Aw,” Jared smirks. “You say that to all your returning customers, don’t ya?”

“No, no I don’t.”

Jared laughs him off, not believing him for a second. They chat for a while about his flight over, last night’s EPL game, renovations to the spa, and the snowfall this year which in Misha’s words, “has been especially bountiful, you will love the slopes this year, my friend!”

“Looking forward to it,” Jared thanks him again and they say their goodnights, promising to see each other soon.

He leaves feeling part impressed and also part puzzled. Misha didn’t ask him about Jensen at all.

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

He’s spending his entire life’s savings on this trip.

A Grand Deluxe suite here is exorbitantly, ridiculously, expensive, and when he steps inside he’s reminded precisely why. It’s an extravagant space, two times the size of his own apartment back in Austin – a luxurious bedroom and living area furnished in contemporary yellow lamps, chic alpine woods and supple brown leather, an en-suite bathroom as huge as the bedroom, and broad picture windows overlooking the majestic Gemsstock Mountain in the background.

Indulgence sure comes at a price. And for this very special weekend, it’s worth every Swiss franc.

Once inside the suite, he flops face down onto the bed with a tired grunt, ready to sleep forever. But there are things to be done first. Things he can’t wait to get done before his clock runs out.

Two days and three nights in paradise on earth. This is going to be _awesome_!

He buries his face into the Egyptian cotton sheets and breathes in deeply, pretending he can still smell Jensen’s cologne on them. Picking up the landline by the bedside, he thinks back to the wine Jensen had ordered the last time they were here. He squints, but for the life of him can’t remember the long, convoluted French name.

“Yeah, room service? Hello, grüezi… can you send up a bottle of red wine please? … What do you have that’s French? … Let’s start with the most expensive ones on the list… uh, no, that’s not it… Well, keep going down the list… no, no… keep going… come again? ... Uh, no I don’t think so… try stuff from like the early 2000s, at least I think it was from the… YES! That’s the one! …Yes please, merci, thank you very much.”

Jared stands up and stretches, then peels out of his travel-filthy clothes. Feels like the stench of airports, train stations and every form of public transport there is has seeped into him, and he needs to get rid of it yesterday.

He walks into the bathroom and turns the faucets in the expansive bathtub on. Water gushes out of the two taps torrentially and he stares at it for a while, wondering if it comes from the river Reuss that flows just north of this quaint little ski village. Probably, maybe.

He perches at the edge of the bathtub lost in thought, and loses track of time.

A stout knock on the door jolts him back to reality. He wraps a white towel low around his waist and it falls to like two inches above his ankles. Then he goes to let room service in with his wine.

The waiter is a young, dark-haired boy with beautifully symmetric Asian features. He couldn’t be a day past nineteen, at best. He greets Jared formally, and looks as disarmed as people usually do when confronted with Jared’s Texas-sized smile and bright, energetic greeting.

“Howdy!!”

"Er, good evening, Herr Padalecki."

"Call me Jared!"

The waiter ignores him completely. In the living room, he busies himself with opening the bottle, while Jared crouches beside the fireplace in wait. He watches the glowing embers intently, marveling how exquisite they look, crackling joyfully to their demise.

“Would you like me to add more kindling, sir?” The boy asks him politely, in an accent that’s typical to the German Swiss who speak French as a second language.

Jared looks up at him, almost surprised he’s still there. “Come again?”

“The fire, sir, would you like to keep it going?”

Jared turns back to the glass-encased hearth and swallows, his Adam’s apple undulating gently with the effort. “No, what’s the point. It’s… wasteful…”

Light from the flames sketches long, abstract silhouettes across his face, shields his eyes from the boy watching him curiously.

“All right then. Guet Nacht, Herr Padalecki,” the boy doesn’t wait for a response and quietly exits, leaving the guest to his evening.

“Thank you!” Jared remembers to call after him just as the door slides shut, not sure if he is heard.

The sound of overflowing water urges him to get back to what he was intending to do before. He fishes his iPhone out of the pocket of his discarded jeans and plugs it into the speaker dock. Browsing to that playlist he hasn’t looked at in years, he hits Play.

He ignores the fine crystal goblet the waiter brought up, and grabs the wine bottle by its neck. Then he walks back into the bathroom, sashaying to the jazz mix Jensen once put together especially for him… music that he sets free one last time to reverberate through the suite.

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

He goes skiing in the morning.

The tiny, cloistered village of Andermatt is nestled in the base of the Urseren valley. It is surrounded by the Alps laden with huge amounts of powder, generous for this time of the year. But winter hasn’t quite descended onto the valley just yet. Quaint cobbled streets and lush green landscapes sprinkled with the sun’s gold – these are some of Jared’s favorite sights, and he is grateful to be able to revisit them once more. But in truth, the slopes are what he really came for. Jensen wasn’t exactly the adventure sports type. So today the Gemsstock beckons and there is nobody around to stop Jared from getting on it.

He recalls the skiing trips his dad used to take him on when he was a kid. Driving eleven hours from Austin to the Taos valley in the winter – those trips are the fondest memories he has of his childhood. He remembers graduating slowly and steadily from the bunny slopes to the black runs under his father’s tutelage. He remembers how boisterously senior Padalecki would clap and cheer, how proud he seemed to be of Jared, even when he wiped out phenomenally. There’s a lesson in every failure, he would say, to learn it is a victory in and of itself.

“Atta boy, Jared! You got it, son, you got it…” he’d roar at the top of his lungs.

Then he’d casually turn to whoever was standing beside him and wiggle his bushy eyebrows visible just over his shades. “That’s my son, you know.”

Jared takes the cable car up to about the middle of the mountain, then a ski lift to get to the very top, just in time to catch the rising sun in all its magnificent glory. There, at three thousand meters above sea level, surrounded by nothing but tall white peaks glowing orange as far as the eye can see, Jared feels… safe.

Safer than he’s felt in a long while.

And once he pushes off, gathering momentum as he skids down the face of the mountain, Jared feels more connected to his father than he has in two decades. Almost as if Patrick is right there next to him, leaving an ethereal set of trails of his own in the snow, whispering words of encouragement, and of caution.

_“Careful, Jared. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”_

_“It’s okay, Dad. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.”_

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

After lunch, he decides a little golf is in order.

Golf is Jensen’s sport of choice. It’s clearly more his pace – relaxed, gentlemanly, and elegant just like Jensen himself. Jared thinks back to that time Jensen offered to teach him. The first thing they did – went shopping for his very own set of golf clubs. He remembers how they completely freaked the staff at Golfsmith out with their inability to keep their hands off each other. In the middle of the day at a store full of stuffy, middle-aged fathers of three…

 

_Jared’s hands are around a nine iron and he’s tilting forward, feet set apart, butt jutting out invitingly._

_“Jensen,” he mewls, blushing hotly as his boyfriend closes in from behind. The older man places his big hands on Jared’s narrow hips, pretending to help adjust his posture._

_“Call me crazy but I don’t see how you fondling my ass will help fix my swing.”_

_“No? I’m sorry, I must not be doing it right then.”_

_Jensen leans in closer and blows softly into Jared’s ear, making him shiver. His thumbs move to slide closer to each other, and press down on the crease between Jared’s denim-covered cheeks. Jared can’t stop himself from pushing back into the devious hands wantonly._

_“Oh, okay, yeah, I see it now...”_

 

Jared smiles nostalgically, staring away into the unknown distance. His caddy assumes he’s just studying the lay of the land, getting ready for his next tee-off. Although what the strange American vacationing alone finds so amusing, the kid will never know.

Golf was also his mother’s sport, at least that’s what he’s been told. He never got to know her. Teeing off sometimes makes him feel like he’s got something in common with the woman who gave birth to him. The woman who also died giving birth to him, actually. She’s probably up there sitting in heaven sighing to herself, thinking, _what a waste_ …

He isn’t smiling anymore.

“Herr Jared, sir? Is there a problem? Do you want to try another club?”

The caddy tries to catch his attention, for the third time or so, apparently. Jared looks down at the ruddy-faced teenager and shakes himself back into the now. He has two days and three nights left (well, technically one and a half days and one night) – no point wasting them being melancholy over things he cannot help.

“Hey, can I ask you a favor?” He hitches his bag of clubs onto his left shoulder even as his caddy stutters because technically that’s his job.

“Last time I was here, my idiot hog of a husband wouldn’t let me drive one of these.”

Jared doesn’t wait for permission and gets into the driver’s seat of the golf cart. Once again the caddy throws his hands up in the air, probably wondering what he’s being paid for.

“You don’t mind, do ya?”

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

For dinner, he decides to walk to Toutoune, the only Mediterranean restaurant in the village.

Shockingly, the maître’d, Kimberley, still remembers him and folds him into a hug. “Oh my God, Jared! It’s so nice to see you again!”

She’s American by birth, but has made a home here in this fairytale village with her Bolivian girlfriend of nine years. Jensen and Jared had instantly hit it off with her the first time they met. But then again, she’s probably this chatty with all her fellow Americans who come by the restaurant.

“Look at you! You’ve lost a little weight there, kiddo. Burning the candle on both ends, are we?”

Jared laughs and just shrugs, not sure what to tell her that wouldn’t be an outright lie.

She looks past him, left then right, expecting to see another tall Texan with piercing green eyes and a hand resting protectively in the small of Jared’s back.

“Will… you be dining alone tonight, dear?” she asks, keeping her smile neutral. But her curiosity and concern ring loud and clear.

Jared holds her hands in his, hoping the tremors don’t pass through his skin into hers. “I’m on my own now, Kim.”

“Oh, I’m so–”

“Hey, guess what? I’ve been dreaming about that lamb shoulder special for three years! Please tell me you still got it.”

“O-Of course! Come on in, sweetheart. I’ll have Antoine prepare it just for you.”

She leads him to a cozy table that lets him put his back against a wall. It’s also closer to the kitchen and farther from the crowd. Privacy is still precious to him, so glad she remembers that. The chef walks out a second later – a short, mousy looking man who looks thoroughly hassled until Jared waves both his hands exuberantly at him.

“Antoine! Mon ami!” Jared infuses all the cheer and over-the-top zealousness expected of him into his greeting.

“Monsieur Ackles! Hullo, hullo!” the chef comes over, shaking the tourist’s hand and craning his neck pretty high up to meet Jared’s eyes.

The words are out of his mouth before Kimberley can signal him, as she obviously tried to do. But Jared waves it off, remembering how Jensen had introduced them the first time they met Antoine.

 _Mr. and Mr. Ackles_ – It was meant to be a joke. (Even after they got married no names were changed legally.) Jared hadn’t pretended to mind, but that was then.

“It’s just Jared now, buddy,” he says, shrugging again with a nonchalance he’s been feigning for so long it’s almost believable now, almost.

And of course the lamb shoulder is absolutely delightful, more so than the last time even. Antoine and Kimberley’s not-so-subtly overflowing sympathies have seen to that.

The sun is on its way down by the time Jared leaves the restaurant. Instead of walking back to the hotel though, he detours north.

Jared has always been a runner. Having lived in Manhattan for a good part of his life, he’s used to walking or running pretty much everywhere. The first time they were here, it was in the summer. Across those four days, Jared ran up and down and across pretty much all of the village and the valley beyond. One trail in particular is his favorite – the one that leads up to the Schöllenen gorge. That’s where he is headed now.

Under the cover of the dark, he easily slips past the little security check post, and makes it to his favorite spot at the edge of the gorge. He leans over the tensile wires that form a flimsy protective barrier to look down. The steep granite walls of the ravine gleam dangerously in the full moon above. As does the wild river Reuss, furiously carving its way through a narrow tunnel towards Lake Lucerne. It’s really more jagged rocks than actual water down there. The radiant yellow lights decorating the village’s low-set skyline do not reach this far.

This spot is perfect in every way – secluded, shielded by a little shrubbery and a pile of rocks, completely silent (except for the water), and absolutely unremarkable in every which way. Nobody will run into him here.

Jared breathes deeply to still his heart that’s furiously hammering away against his rib cage.

“One more night, just one,” he whispers to an audience of one. It’ll soon be here before he knows it.

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

The next day passes in much the same way – re-capturing the experiences of some of Jensen’s favorite things, and some of his own as well.

He spends half the day skiing again. When he returns, sweating profusely, he heads straight to his booking at the spa, and gets himself pampered by the healing hands of a world-famous masseur called Armando.

He eats like a moose, a herd of moose actually. For every meal, he orders multiple cuisines at once: Korean barbecue with steak and sushi for lunch, Lebanese with Greek and Indian for dinner. He overdoses on chocolate and candy and truffle fries. He tries four different draught beers on the menu. And he plays Pearl Jam all day long in his suite, and on his headphones as he strolls around the hotel like a tourist with all the frigging time in the world.

Every inch of the Chedi is a work of art, from penthouse to the parking lot. Jensen would know, being an accomplished architect himself. Jared always suspected Jensen harbored a secret crush for Gathy, the architect of this hotel.

He wonders for the millionth time what Jensen ever saw in Jared to begin with. They had so unbelievably little in common. Maybe, if he’d been _honest_ with Jensen, they wouldn’t have gotten past the second date, let alone have a committed relationship for fourteen months, followed by a marriage that lasted another two and a half years.

Nine weeks ago would have been their five-year wedding anniversary.

His left eye twitches and quickly he rubs it away. He decides it’s time to head back to the suite. The waiter from the night before walks past him. Jared immediately breaks out his grin along with his usual “Howdy!” leaving the kid flabbergasted once more, before heading upstairs.

He’s been composing the letter for weeks now, months if he’s being truly honest. He must have written forty drafts before settling on the one that sits on his desktop right now. In situations like these, it’s best to leave a handwritten and explicitly signed note – that much he knows from watching all those procedurals on TV that Jensen despised so much.

 

 _“_ _Aww man, they doing NCIS re-runs again? And you’re_ watching _again?!?”_

_“Oh shush. This one’s my favorite. It’s where Tony gets framed for killing and severing the legs off a woman and…”_

_“Can’t believe I’m in love with a dork like you.”_

 

Jared remembers how they both froze for a couple minutes. He remembers how Jensen suddenly found DiNozzo’s air-drumming absolutely riveting. It was the first time one of them actually said the words out loud.

Besides, handwritten letters will never go out of style.

He uses the hotel’s fancy stationary to copy the note from his laptop, signs and dates it at the bottom. Then he leaves it on the study table in plain view, held down in place by his passport, phone, wallet, his box of emergency pills, and the sterling silver string he’s been wearing around his neck ever since he signed the papers, with his platinum wedding band threaded through it. He leaves his key card too.

He wouldn’t be returning to this place again.

Jared looks at his watch – it is one AM on a Monday morning. Well after sundown, late enough for the tourist crowd to have dispersed, and for the locals to have gone to bed. Jared shrugs into his jacket and boots and steps out of the suite.

It is time.

Time zone conversion always confuses the hell out of him but roughly speaking he knows the sun is about to go down, back in the States. The few people he knows – friends, co-workers, the last foster family he stayed with though he’s hardly in touch with most of them – they might be having dinner or relaxing in front of the TV right now.

In all likelihood, his presence will not be missed for another ten hours, not until he is expected to check out of the hotel, at least. And then who knows what the waiting period here is by law, before one can be declared missing. If he’s lucky, the currents will whisk him away, delaying discovery for a little while longer. He’s leaving all identification documents behind so that should buy him another few hours, if not days. He just wishes nobody gets disturbed by needless phone calls in the middle of the night. He remembers how grumpy Jensen used to get if he didn’t get his full eight hours’ worth of sleep in the night.

Of course, all that’s presuming anyone would even care.

“Black lenses, Jared, remember?” Dr. Beaver used to say. “You can take them off, son, but you must choose to do so.”

Jared lingers in the memory of the good doctor for a bit, then stubbornly pushes it away and heads out of the suite.

It’s a good thing he’s already done the reconnaissance around the gorge. He knows exactly how long the trek will take on foot, and exactly how many guards man the poorly resourced and wholly unnecessary security post, his own nefarious designs notwithstanding. Everything’s going according to plan. He sees it as a big, thrilling adventure, really. All this sneaking about, plotting and scheming.

“How very James Bond of me,” Jared mumbles in a fake English accent, smirking his way from one end of the corridor to the other.

He reaches the elevators, or lifts, as they call them here in Europe, and hits the down arrow. As he waits, he reviews Plan B once again. Not that he’d need it. By the time he gets to the gorge, it’d be almost two AM. The guards are kind of lax to begin with, no way are they even awake to spot Jared, let alone cause any trouble. But if by some miracle they do spot him, he could just keep going past them, pretend he’s out for a late night run because he can’t sleep, and head over to the Devil’s bridge not too far.

No security there, not to the best of his knowledge.

The elevator bell dings, and one of the cars opens. Jared steps in, hands digging into his pockets. He pulls his skull cap out and dons it, fixing his long, brown hair under it. The descent down the elevator shaft seems to take forever. Now that this moment is finally here, he can hardly wait to get to the other side of it.

The elevator stops two floors above the lobby level. Jared huffs softly, and looks up as the doors start to slide open. He wasn’t expecting to see anyone at this time of the night, but schools his face to greet whoever enters the car with one last smile. One last performance before the curtain comes down.

 

Jensen is standing outside.

Jared freezes.

 

The other man stands with his head bowed, completely engrossed in his phone. He looks up briefly when the doors open, goes back to reading something on his phone, then does a double-take when he realizes who the passenger inside the car is.

It’s obvious he wasn’t expecting to see Jared either.

He doesn’t make a move to board the car, and with his body turned away, glued to his spot, it doesn’t look like he ever intended to.

Jared’s mind races, trying to make sense of what he’s seeing. Assuming he’s not hallucinating. Maybe he shouldn’t have tried that fourth draught beer after all. He blinks repeatedly, subtly shakes his head then narrows his eyes. And Jensen is still there, standing not twelve feet away.

If Jensen didn’t press the elevator buzzer, who did? Nobody else steps in to join Jared, in fact there is nobody else there. So why is Jensen standing here, at the end of the hall where folks only go to board a fucking elevator?

Maybe he pressed the Up button, intending to go _up_ somewhere. Maybe back to his room. But if he is here on this level, maybe he has a room right here? Impossible, Jensen always books one of the penthouse suites. So maybe he came out for a stroll – like Jared did earlier that evening to admire the hotel’s renowned architecture. Except, Jensen already knows every nook and corner of this place, as if he’d designed it himself. And strolling at this hour in the night? That’s not like the Jensen he once knew. It doesn’t make sense. Unless the man is looking for something. Or… someone?

Can’t be.

And how come he is standing so precisely in Jared’s line of sight when there are like nine other cars he could have been standing in front of?

They continue to stare at each other, frozen in space and time, until the machine decides to intervene. The doors slide close as if in slow motion, but neither makes a move to stop them or even say anything. Jared stands numbly until the car banks on the ground floor and the doors open again. He walks out, entirely on auto-pilot, his feet well aware of their destination as they start to carry him towards the reception and the front gates beyond.

He has a plan. He must stick to it.

A plan that has been coming together for months, maybe even years. An idea that lay dormant in the recesses of his mind for as long as he can remember, awakened in spades over the course of the past two years, and solidified nine weeks ago. And once it did, there was no shaking it off.

Because it’s the right thing to do. Like Seneca said, a wise man lives as long as he ought, not as long as he can.

The Stoics argued that there is nothing inherently valuable about life, since its value comes from it being of a certain quality. David Hume also wrote that when an individual’s ability to be a productive member of the society is so severely undermined, that all they’re doing is consuming valuable resources and giving nothing back – that qualifies as a justified reason if there ever was one. Hardening his jaw, Jared picks up the pace and strides on into the dark night.

And no, no theological arguments can stand up to Hume’s irrefutable logic either. Human rights trump religious rights, far as he’s concerned. Like Schopenhauer said, there is nothing in this world to which every man has a more unassailable title than to his own life and person. Nietzsche, Herodotus, Thomas Szasz, Jean Améry, Plutarch, Marcus Aurelius, Confucius… everyone fucking agrees.

Of course Jared has thought this through! This is a _rational_ decision, not an emotional one.

He’s done nothing but think for months and months and months. It’s what he does best, or worst, depending on who you ask. It used to annoy the hell out of Jensen, heck he even had a nickname for it – ‘Gilmore Girling’ he would call it – for all his endless analytical rants that would never stop and never go anywhere.

Except this time they did. This time he arrived at a decision, one he intends fully to follow through with.

And yet, here he finds himself, in this moment, watching his resolve flap uselessly like a plastic bag in the wind. His legs shake violently, refusing to carry him past the ‘safety’ of the village. Why is he hesitating now? Why is he unable to take that final leap, and put an end to his protracted misery?

Jared sighs and comes to a full halt mid-step. He didn’t even make it a mile past the hotel. And he knows exactly why.

Jensen is here. His ex-husband is here. In Switzerland. In Lucerne, in this very hotel.

What the fuck is he doing here?

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Swiss German or French words (they use either interchangeably I swear!): 
> 
> grüezi: Hello  
> merci: Thanks  
> guet nacht: Good night  
> mon ami: my (male) friend  
> herr/monsieur: Mister (in German/French)


	2. Hope is a terrible disappointment

 

  


**October 3, 2016**

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

He has no idea how he manages to walk back to the hotel without bumping into or tripping over anything. Or maybe he did, who knows. He sure doesn’t remember anything up to the moment when he’s standing in front of his door with no key card to let himself in.

The thought of having to talk to another human being effectively reboots his system. He recalls the steps of the procedure to execute, the motions to go through – putting the mask on, pulling his shoulders back, slapping a wide sociable smile onto his face, channeling the charm that people say he apparently has.

He walks up to the concierge desk, feeling as ready as he can possibly be. Until the night manager turns around and Jared sees who it is.

“Misha?”

Misha smiles at him gently, not a hair out of place, as usual. “Hello! Can’t sleep?”

“Yeah, it’s just… uh…” he blinks, trying to wrangle his thoughts back to a point where the words spilling out of his mouth make coherent sense. He fails.

“I saw you walking out of the gate earlier. I waved to you, tried to catch your attention but you seemed pretty intent on getting out of here so… I let you be.”

Probably the same thing happened when he came back in, what with Jared being completely engrossed in his thoughts. Thank God the man isn’t pressing for details. And he’s still smiling. Good. He doesn’t suspect anything. Jared wets his parched lips.

“I-I just went for a walk. You’re right, sleep is evading me tonight. But um, I’m an idiot. I left my key upstairs…”

“No worries,” Misha quickly comes around from behind the desk, one arm stretched out in invitation. “Come on. Let me take you back upstairs.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay, I can…”

“Come on, my little big friend. Grace me with your company a while longer, won’t you?”

Like Jared has a choice. He follows quietly while Collins leads them towards the elevators. In a way, he’s oddly glad to have the man’s attention, if only for a little bit. And if they run into Jensen again, he can ask Misha to confirm if he sees him too. And if not, he’ll know he was just hallucinating earlier.

Speaking of… Oh. Fuck. He could just _ask_ Misha if Jensen’s checked in or not! Why the hell did he not think of that before?

The elevator arrives and Misha holds the door open, waits for Jared to step inside first before following after him.

Jared’s heart begins to race again. He can actually hear the big vein in his forehead throb. Droplets of sweat grease the palms of his hands, as the men ascend to the top floor. Obviously Misha saw him checking in alone, and in his classically diplomatic way has made sure not to mention Jensen, or marriage, or relationships of any kind in Jared’s presence so far.

So he knows.

But if Misha truly considered Jared a friend, shouldn’t he have said something? A word of consolation perhaps? Maybe Misha doesn’t think of him as a friend after all.

Jared feels a slight sulk coming on. Misha has always had a soft spot for Jensen, that isn’t exactly news. Maybe… maybe he found out exactly how things went down that led to the divorce? Maybe that’s why he’s being so standoffish to Jared? Not that he’d blame Misha for it.

The big question is – will Misha be willing to go out of his way for an ‘acquaintance’ like Jared, and divulge something he technically shouldn’t? Guess he wouldn’t know unless he tried.

“Uh, Misha, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Sure! What is it?”

“Uh,” Jared tries but fails to get the words out of his mouth. Not the right ones at least. “H-How are the kids?”

“Oh wonderful, wonderful!” Misha says, beaming with pride. “Max is almost six, and he’s decided he wants to be an Olympic skier. That’s all he wants to do, apparently.”

“That’s a-awesome.”

“Yes, and Marie is turning three soon. She’s a very opinionated young lady. I have no idea what she wants from life, or from me most of the time. But she’s a happy child. That’s all that matters really though, right?”

Jared wouldn’t know, but he purses his lips and nods along.

“They’re coming into town on Tuesday for the festival. It’s unfortunate you won’t be here to meet them.”

“Yeah, sorry. Uh, what festival?”

“It’s a traditional mountain festival, a street fair of sorts. It’s meant to celebrate life in all its beautiful forms – flowers and animals, dancing and music, food and drink, friends and family…”

Jared looks down at his shoes and keeps nodding like he’s expected to.

“It’s a way to remind ourselves how fortunate we are, to have been given this wonderful gift of life. I wish you were staying longer, my friend.”

The elevator stops at the top floor, and once again Misha waits for Jared to step out first. The American takes a deep breath, thankful for the walk still ahead to his suite at the end of the hall.

“Misha, there’s something else I wanted to ask. A-And I would completely understand if you’re not able to help me out.”

“I will try my best,” the manager says, vaguely enough.

“Have you… seen Jensen recently?”

“Depends on what you mean by ‘recent’, I suppose.”

“Today,” Jared says impatiently, desperately. “Did you see him today?”

Misha keeps walking steadily towards Jared’s suite. “No, I haven’t seen him today.”

It is as he’d expected. For an upscale establishment like the Chedi, discretion is paramount. Misha is prioritizing his professional code (or his friendship for Jensen) over Jared. The thirty-one year old closes his eyes and tries to not grimace. He decides to let it go, and wills for the endless walk to end already.

“But… I have only been here since ten PM today, for the night shift. I haven’t checked anyone in or seen anyone come in since I started.”

Jared looks up at Misha in surprise. The older man is looking at him with a tinge of sympathy softening the crystal blue of his eyes. They’re at Jared’s door by now. Misha steps forward, unlocks and then holds it open, waiting for Jared to pass through.

Jared goes in, at once both grateful and reluctant to do so. He knows his eyes are pleading with Misha to give him more, just as he knows Misha is unable to. Hope has been rekindled, though Jared isn’t entirely sure that’s a good thing.

“Good night, Jared. Sleep well.”

“Night,” Jared whispers and lets the man be on his way.

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

He spends the night crouched in a corner, hugging his knees to himself. He does not sleep, does not move. He just sits there, trying to process the unexpected turn of events. The sun comes up. He barely registers the changing light, wondering what to do with this new development, if anything at all.

His alarm goes off, as it always does, at seven in the morning. He’d rigged the app to open Spotify and start playing anything at random. Music helps dispel his numbness, somewhat, and he asks himself the sixty-four thousand dollar question he’s been evading all night.

What the fuck should he do now?

He’d been so sure, so certain until about one AM last night. And now he’s thrown back into the world of turmoil he’d fought so hard to claw his way out of. If this is Jensen’s way to get back at him for what happened two and a half years ago, then, hell… it’s pretty damn effective.

“Get a grip,” he tells himself, standing up at last. He stretches, drops to the floor and does a couple of push-ups to get the blood flowing to his brain again.

“Think. Stupid brain. Just work…” he chides himself out of the near catatonic state he’s pushed himself into.

The first thing he needs to do is make sure he did not, in fact, hallucinate. Which isn’t so far beyond the realm of possibility, really. Maybe it was his psyche’s one last, desperate attempt to stop him from… from doing the right thing. Self-preservation is, after all, a hardcoded genetic instinct that has ensured survival of the human species for millions of years. He really should’ve seen it coming. But it doesn’t matter, there’s a lesson in every failure. Now that he’s aware, he will be prepared for it next time.

But then what if he didn’t hallucinate? What if Jensen really is in town? Jared pushes himself back up on his feet. Misha couldn’t help, so Jared will need to find another way to verify it first and foremost. Before he lets himself go any further down _that_ rabbit hole.

He looks at his watch – seven-fifty AM – decides a quick change of clothes is in order. He didn’t want to make Misha suspicious in case he’s still on duty. He dons a sky blue cashmere pullover with a white t-shirt and blue jeans faded to gray, paired with his usual running shoes.

As he dresses, he spots the letter still on the study table and bites his lip. It needs to be put out of sight for now. Hurriedly, he pulls the top drawer open, swipes the letter and all his personal possessions into it, then rushes out the door.

Downstairs, he finds the concierge who’d helped check him in two days ago.

“Guete Morge, Herr Padalecki,” the man greets Jared politely, his practiced little smile barely reaching his eyes.

 _At least he remembers me_ , Jared thinks. Maybe this can work. “Howdy, Sebastian! How are you, my man?”

“Very well, sir, and yourself?”

“Awesome, awesome!” Jared leans forward a bit, just like he’d seen Jensen do a hundred times whenever he needed to charm someone to get something done.

“Hey, can you help me with something? I’m looking for a friend of mine. He’s supposed to have checked in last evening but, see I was out and I got back in really late,” he throws in a short, embarrassed laugh. “Uh, his name is Jensen Ackles?”

Sebastian is a tall, impressive man with dark blonde hair, a thick Swiss accent, and a condescending manner that grates on Jared’s nerves. True to style, he prefaces his response with a long-drawn sigh, as if about to commence a lecture to a twelve-year old.

“My apologies, Herr Padalecki. We are not allowed to divulge our guests’ information to anyone, including other guests.”

Jared resists the urge to snap at the man and tries again. “Yeah, totally understand, dude. I’m not asking you to break any _laws_ but, see I already know that he’s here. This is like his favorite hotel in the whole world. He wouldn’t stay anywhere else in Lucerne, you see?”

“Well then, what do you need from me, sir?”

Aargh, this man. “Just… I just wanted to make sure he got in okay?”

Sebastian nods sagely like he understands exactly what Jared is doing. “I can take a message and pass it on, in case someone by that name has, or, does check in.”

Whoa. No.

“Uh, that’s okay! That’s… I’ll… find him myself. Thanks.”

_For nothing._

Jared stalks away frustrated, more with himself than with the manager really. He knows where all this desperation to find Jensen is stemming from, and he doesn’t like it.

Hope. It’s a lesson hard-learned, and hard to unlearn as well, even when it’s kicked you in the nuts a hundred times over.

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

Jared keeps walking aimlessly until he finds himself standing by the indoor pool. He crouches down and considers his own reflection in the water. He’s never been much of a believer, never had much reason to, really. It’s why he’s inclined to think there is a more rational explanation here before jumping to some crazy, supernatural conclusion.

So Jensen is in Switzerland – is that really so unthinkable? Not at all, Jensen’s firm does millions of dollars’ worth of business in Europe. He always did travel a lot, had a bunch of clients, big and small, in all parts of the globe. It was one of the things Jared never could get used to when they were together – Jensen being away so much.

But to be here in this tiny ski retreat, at the exact same time as when Jared was planning his… isn’t it too outrageous, too… too bizarre to be just a coincidence?

A fragile smile threatens to curl his lips, and his breathing becomes a little shallow. Most people with… let’s say, a kamikaze disposition, at some level, don’t really want to do it. Many who try, do so all the while hoping somehow they won’t succeed. Some are lucky, others not so much. Maybe Jared is one of the lucky ones.

Maybe someone up there sent Jensen to Andermatt on this very night because they knew nothing else could change Jared’s mind. Maybe it’s fate, some sort of… divine intervention? And there’s that damn rabbit hole after all. Jared swipes a hand across his reflection in the water, marring it beyond recognition. There’s only one way to solve this… ridiculous predicament.

He needs to talk to Jensen.

Jared stands up quickly, so quickly he almost loses balance and send himself hurtling into the water. He curses his God-given gracelessness and jogs his way to the elevators. The plan is to start at the top floor, and stalk the corridor up and down until Jensen steps out of one of those ultra-luxurious penthouse suites and reveals himself.

He hits the button labeled ‘6’ a little too viciously, vibrating with nervous energy. He’s gotten himself halfway convinced that Jensen came here after him, _for_ him. And it’s scaring the hell out of him. He just needs to hear it from Jensen, whatever ‘it’ may be. Although, the man hadn’t seemed very keen to exchange words of any kind last night.

That gives him pause. Jensen had clearly not intended the run-in last night and didn’t exactly look pleased either. It was one AM in the morning – no one expects anyone out of bed at that hour. So then what was Jensen doing out of bed?

He’d looked ready to go out, or maybe coming back from having been out. He looked great, as always – dressed in a black woolen jacket with red hoodie, Armani most definitely (Jensen’s favorite brand), black pressed jeans, and a cream-colored pullover over a white t-shirt. He was also sporting a light, nicely groomed beard. Guess some things do change after all. Back then, he always stayed clean-shaven because Jared would whine so much about stubble burns.

Suddenly, the urge to see Jensen again is cranked up to eleven.

He saunters around the sixth floor, feeling just as creepy as he probably looks. He’s lurking outside the Furka suite when a second later the door opens. Jared quickly spins around and tries to walk away, when a familiar voice calls after him.

“Herr Padalecki?”

Jared flinches. What are the fucking chances he’d be recognized? He schools his face and slowly turns around, only to come face-to-face with the waiter who’d brought him his wine on Friday night.

“Oh, hey! Uh, sorry I didn’t catch your name.”

“Osric, sir. Is there something I can help you with?”

“Hmm? Um, no, I was just…” Jared does the short, embarrassed laugh again. It tends to neutralize the effects of his physically intimidating stature and derail suspicious thoughts – or so his friend Benedict used to say.

“Honestly, Osric, I-I am looking for someone.” The kid seems nice enough, and hopefully ignorant to the data privacy laws of this damn place.

“Tall, dark blond hair, American, green eyes, kind of pretty… _very_ pretty?”

“Male or female, sir?”

“Male! Yeah, sorry, definitely male. I’m positive he’s here somewhere and I… well,” he scratches the back of his head, wondering how to explain without this being TMI for the poor kid.

But Osric is smiling already. “I think I know who you’re talking about, sir.”

Oh thank God. Thank everyone up there in heaven!

“But I hope you understand, I am not allowed to tell you what their suite number is.”

Jared sighs. So much for teenage ignorance.

Osric must have seen something in Jared’s face, because instead of walking away like he seemed about to a second ago, he turns towards him fully.

“I could tell you though, that at this time of the day, the breakfast lounge is quite popular with our… American guests.”

Jared bows his head in gratitude. “Thanks, my man.”

“You’re very welcome, sir.”

“Call me Jared!” He yells, before skidding towards the elevator to go downstairs once more.

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

Of course! Jared prefers to eat light in the mornings, but not Jensen. Jensen’s always been a fan of big fat American breakfasts.

Back then, Jared used to be an early riser, and mornings were the most productive part of his days. He’d constructed a careful routine and stuck to it like his life depended on it, _literally_. He’d wake up at five, hit the gym at five-fifteen, take the dogs out, then come back and jump into the shower by six-thirty. Then he’d get dressed and make breakfast – oatmeal and fruits for himself, eggs and bacon for Jensen. Sometimes pancakes or crepes too.

Jensen in comparison, would roll out of bed leisurely at eight or nine. Some days he’d shower and other days not, before sitting down with a newspaper at the island in the middle of their ginormous kitchen. Guess when you’re one of the bosses you can go in whenever you want. The bastard could also work from home whenever. On days like that he didn’t even bother getting dressed.

Meanwhile, Jared was a senior graphic designer for a gaming software company at the time. He’d take the subway, and work nine-to-six most days, unless they were rolling out a new build. Then he’d stay at work late, sometimes all night if needed, without getting paid for overtime.

Jared rubs his eyes and vehemently shoves those memories back in their box. The last thing he wants to think of right now is that damn job. Thinking back to that time, that office… it’s still potent enough to trigger an attack, and Jared sure doesn’t have time for _that_ nonsense right now.

 _Concentrate_. Jensen has to have his breakfast. He could have ordered room service, but looks like the architect still doesn’t like eating alone.

When Jared reaches the restaurant that’s aptly, if a bit snobbishly, named _The Restaurant_ , he’s greeted by the most resplendent breakfast buffet he has ever seen. The place seems pretty popular with locals and foreigners alike. And there, among the crowd of early risers, skiers and tourists, Jared finds the man he’s looking for, sitting alone at a table in the back… with no food in front of him at all.

Jared stands glued to his spot, watching his ex-husband from afar. For the longest time he feels nothing but intense relief. Relief that he hasn’t lost his mind after all, relief for being able to lay eyes on someone he thought he’d never see again.

Jensen looks older, but older is a good look on him. His gray shirt is crumpled and hanging over last night’s black jeans. His hair is awry, like he’s stopped using product, maybe. And he’s wearing his glasses (the man is severely far-sighted) along with his earphones. His head is bowed into his iPad, effectively blocking the rest of the world out.

He looks exhausted. Maybe he’s jetlagged. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t sleep last night, which would explain the random strolling long past midnight?

Jared breathes deeply, plucks every ounce of courage he has, and some he doesn’t, to move one foot ahead of the other. The walk up to Jensen’s table is both infinitely long and over far too soon.

“Hi.”

Jensen blinks into his iPad and goes deathly still, like he recognizes the voice without looking up to see who it is. A second later, he looks up and leans back in his chair.

“Hi.”

His hands are sweating again. Jared buries them deep into his jeans pockets, and tries to smile. “Fancy running into you here.”

“Back at ya.”

Silence drags on for a few, unbearable moments.

“Business or pleasure?”

“Bit of both.”

Jared nods, chews on his lower lip. “Of all the gin joints in the world and all that, huh?”

“Well,” Jensen takes off his glasses. “This has always been my favorite vacation spot, you know that.”

Jared stops smiling. “So… you’ve been coming here a lot?”

“Whenever I can get away.”

Jared snorts quietly, mostly at himself for presuming Jensen would avoid this place too. Why should he? It’s not like the memories they created here together were any big deal.

This is only the sleepy little town where Jared took Jensen ice skating for the first time in his entire life. Only the place where Jensen got down on one knee and vowed to devote the rest of his life to Jared. Only the hotel they came to for their honeymoon, and didn’t leave the suite for ninety-six straight hours. The world may as well have ended in those four days, for all they’d cared. But of course none of that matters enough for Jensen to forego his _favorite vacation spot_ in the whole damn world.

So much for divine intervention. Just an equation of mathematical probability, really. Jared looks out through the full-length glass walls behind Jensen and sighs. The mountains are calling to him again.

“Why don’t you sit down, for a bit?” Jensen asks, his voice clearly unsure. Like he’s just being polite.

“Thanks!” Jared sits down just to make him _more_ uncomfortable.

“You know, last night when I saw you,” Jared swallows painfully and pushes forward. “For a minute, I thought, maybe you were here for…b-because of me? Like maybe you followed me… but that’s just dumb, I know.”

Jensen just stares at him, his jawline unyielding as ever.

“I mean, of course, why would you, after three years? It’s s-stupid, obviously…” Jared laughs, bitterly.

Two years, eight months and three days to be exact. But like hell is he saying it out loud and admitting that he’s literally been counting the days since their marriage fell apart.

Jensen picks up his coffee mug and takes a long, thoughtful, sip. “Let’s not start that again. I think we’ve both moved on. It’s better this way.”

Yeah, well. Jensen’s right about one thing – it _would_ be better if they did move on. Both of them.

“So, who’s the lucky fella?”

“What?” Jared frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Uh, whoever you’re here with.”

“What makes you think I’m here with someone?”

Jensen squints, looking confused and highly skeptical. “Well, unless something’s changed drastically for you recently, I didn’t think you could afford this on your own. I just assumed…”

“What – that I found another millionaire boyfriend to fly me to Europe and put me up at expensive, five-star hotels? Is that what you think I was doing with you?”

The architect is already backing off at top speed. “No, _no_! You know I never thought that, not once in all the time we were together. I just… you never accepted the alimony. So I don’t know how…?”

Jensen stops there, exasperated and obviously unhappy with his choice of words so far.

Money was never a big point of contention between the two. Sure Jensen offered, but Jared never accepted. There were only two things that Jared let Jensen pay for – their vacations together, and the loft they called home in Midtown Manhattan. Technically the loft was already paid for in full so, yeah, just the vacations then. Maybe that’s why Jensen insisted on so many of them?

Irrelevant. Jared squints hard at Jensen, trying to understand what the older man is thinking. Maybe he’s jealous? And there it goes again – that pesky little ‘hope’ thing that thinks it’s fucking Captain America. _Stay down, final warning._

“I came here by myself, Jensen. I came alone.”

Jensen keeps his face blank; he’s always been good at that. There’s a hint of a storm brewing in those sea-green eyes, or maybe it’s just his imagination. Jared can’t say for sure.

“Why? What are you doing here, Jared?”

Jared closes his eyes and relishes the moment. It’s the first time he’s heard Jensen say his name in this entire conversation. It’s the first time he’s heard Jensen say his name in years.

He contemplates telling Jensen the truth. The whole truth – leave nothing out. But then, what would that accomplish, except maybe pity, a fresh burst of rage even, followed by a mad dash out the door to get as far away from the psycho lunatic, never to be seen or heard from again?

Rage he can handle. Rage he would welcome even, because it’d mean Jensen cares at least a little bit about what happens to Jared. Unless he cares only about the repercussions for himself and his reputation, which is possible of course. But hey, anything’s better than utter indifference, right?

Pity is a different matter altogether. Years of fighting the… the darkness has worn his self-esteem down, no doubt. But he still holds on to one last modicum of pride that will never allow him to accept pity from anyone, let alone Jensen.

And if it’s not pride then it’s guilt. Guilt for what he did, what he let happen… guilt that reminds him time and time again that he doesn’t deserve anyone’s help. Doesn’t deserve any second chances. And yet, here they are, in this place once again, together. If this isn’t a motherfucking second chance, then what is? What could ever be?

Jared takes a deep, reluctantly hopeful, breath and opens his mouth to speak…

“There you are!”

Those aren’t his words. That isn’t his voice. It’s female, for one.

Jensen looks up at someone behind Jared. His eyebrows skyrocket briefly before coming down just as fast. He rises from his chair while Jared gulps his disappointment down and turns around.

The woman who walks up to their table is tall, as tall as Jensen, with dark, wavy hair pulled together and tumbling over one shoulder. She’s dressed in royal blue three-quarter pants, a sleeveless white top, and a brown suede jacket hanging off her forearm. She is drop dead beautiful.

“Good morning!” Jensen greets her, his voice full of tenderness. “I thought you’d sleep in longer…”

“Someone left the blinds open and let the sun in so did I have a choice? Not really…” she’s bantering with him. With _his_ Jensen. And she just let Jared know she’s sharing the suite with him.

Jared turns back around and slides lower into his chair, in sync with his heart sinking to the pit of his stomach. Guess he’s the only one who flew halfway around the world solo.

Jensen clears his throat as the woman comes over to stand by his side. “Jared, this is Emily Swallow, my… colleague from work. And Emily, this is… uh, Jared.”

Jared picks himself up and takes her extended hand as politely as he can. Then flashes his thoroughly practiced thousand-watt smile and adds, “The ex-husband.”

Jensen coughs, and she starts, glaring at him briefly before turning back to face Jared. “N-Nice to meet you, Jared. Fancy running into you here, huh?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Uh, so now that you’re here,” Jensen interrupts, “how about we eat, huh?”

“All right, let’s do it!” she says, too perkily for Jared’s liking.

The couple sits down, Emily cozying up to Jensen like she’s been doing it forever. Jared numbly sits back down as well, although he’s not sure what he’s doing here anymore.

Jensen clears his throat again while she looks over the menu. “Emily joined the firm last winter. We have been… uh, collaborating with Gathy on a new project in Kuala Lumpur.”

Which is nowhere near Switzerland but okay. Jared smiles sardonically, he understands what is _not_ being said here. Jensen could never keep anything hidden from him too long. No, that’s always been Jared’s thing… the secrets he’s kept over the years, some Jensen still doesn’t know.

“Sorry I kept you waiting,” Emily says to Jensen after they place their orders with the server. Jared declines. He’s not likely to keep anything down anyway.

“You must be starving, poor baby.” She thumbs the blond man’s lower lip affectionately.

“I’m fine, really,” Jensen replies, pulling away a little but not entirely. And he’s lying, Jared can tell.

“He just doesn’t like to eat alone.”

Jared wasn’t intending to say it out loud, but realizes from the identical looks across the table that he just did. Looks that seem full of discomfort, and suspicion, and… pity.

“Excuse me,” he says and stands up abruptly. “There’s… somewhere I need to be.”

The panic is steadily bubbling up his chest and into his throat and he needs to be gone, away, before it breaks through the surface.

He turns towards the main doors, the mountains, and catches a glimpse of Jensen’s face in the periphery of his vision. For a second it looks like Jensen might say something, do something, make him stay. But he doesn’t. So Jared leaves, taking long strides to carry his trembling body away from following eyes, as fast as he can.

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

The call of the mountains can no longer be ignored. Hell, it’s practically deafening.

Soon as the attack passes and his breaths level out, Jared breaks into a run. Slow at first and then fast, and then hard enough for the cold to barely register against the exposed parts of his skin. Tourists milling about wisely jump out of his way to avoid being mowed down by his Sasquatchian frame. Locals barely pay him any attention, well used to the antics of hot-headed adventure seekers visiting them from all over the world. He runs for miles and miles before he even realizes where he’s headed – the Schöllenen gorge.

It’s just as well. He slows down to catch his breath, then turns towards the steep incline that will take him up to his favorite spot. At this hour in broad daylight, it will likely not be as private. But right then he doesn’t care.

He needs to be where the earth drops off from under his feet and the sound of the running water is loud enough to drown the voices in his head. He needs to feel that indefinable sense of liberation from peeking at the end of the tunnel. Whether there is a light there or not is immaterial. The gorge is the end he’s been waiting for – the end to his unnecessary existence in the dark, to all his pain, his profound sense of unworthiness.

By the time he reaches the point he’s earmarked, he is drenched in sweat and exhausted to the bone. A couple of teenagers on a tandem bicycle wave at him and automatically he waves back. He can’t help it – it’s the years of conditioning to hide his true self behind a mask of fake cheeriness. Once they’re gone, the mask drops and Jared turns to face the edge once more.

It’d be so easy… to scale the protective rails and let himself fly. One last adrenaline rush, like a ski jump from the top of the Gemsstock. His long-awaited swan song. And yet something is stopping him, again. Another stupid subconscious tactic that his psyche is using to subvert his free will, maybe?

“Emily Swallow,” he grinds out, absent-mindedly. There’s a lewd joke in there somewhere. If only Jared had the repertoire and the energy to come up with it.

He’s tired. So fucking tired.

He sits himself down, leaning against the rails, and wraps his arms around his knees pulled up into his chest. He wishes he could vent this tension building between his eyes, choking his throat. But the tears haven’t flown in years. His bottled emotions are like an 82-ton anchor shackled to his feet, mooring him to his island of darkness. Not that letting them out helped him any the last time he tried it.

He still remembers that moment of epiphany like it was yesterday. Actually it was two years, eight months and a few days ago. He’d just made the worst mistake of his life. And no matter how much he cried, the tears couldn’t wash the stain of that horrible sin away. That’s simply the nature of some mistakes – you can never undo them, never atone for them no matter how hard you try.

Infidelity happens to be one of them.

 

*****|***|***|*****

 


	3. Two years, eight months and few days ago…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one happens in the past. And the narration tense further goes back and forth, so like flashbacks within flashbacks. You've been warned! ;)

**January 22, 2014**

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

Jared walked into the offices of Morgames Inc. on a Tuesday morning, and was immediately accosted by a buzz of activity that had nothing to do with actual work.

“Hey there, Aloony!” He called out to the admin managing the front desk.

Alona looked up from her laptop towards Jared. Her thoughtful scowl instantly morphed into a happy one, the kind she saved only for her closest friends.

“Good morning, Jar Jar!” She spiked an eyebrow towards the digital clock on her desk. “You’re late.”

Jared squinted at his watch. “What’re you talking about? I’m twenty minutes early. Jensen’s in Tokyo again so there was no reason to hang out alone at home and…”

“That husband of yours needs to appreciate you more, hon, and look… your three o’clock.”

Jared turned his head as instructed. That’s when he noticed something different about the big boardroom to his right. It was crammed full of people, all facing forward towards the presenter podium, listening to someone or something attentively.

“Did I miss something?”

“Guess you don’t check your email late in the night like civilized people, which can’t be said about others who work in this office.”

She leaned forward, her eyes glinting with knowledge he didn’t share. “Guess who is back.”

“Who?”

She winked. “Only the first and true love of your life.”

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

Jared took a deep breath before pushing the door to the conference room open. The presenter turned towards the latecomer and briefly paused. His face lit up with recognition in a way that made everyone else in the room look at Jared with curiosity or jealousy, or both.

“Hey, Jared! Come on in.”

Jared felt his face get hot with the attention, cursing his decision to don an un-ironed baby pink shirt over his baggiest pair of cargos this morning. And yet when the man smiled at him like that, Jared couldn’t help but feel on top of the world.

Yep. Jeffrey Dean Morgan had that effect on pretty much everyone he came in contact with.

“So as I was saying,” the man continued. “This is a great opportunity for us to get onboard with…”

Jared stuck himself into the only free spot against a glass wall in the back and tried to catch up with the agenda being discussed. He still couldn’t believe it. Morgan or JDM, as he was usually called, was standing before him once again. After all these years.

He looked amazing, as always. He was dressed in a black sports jacket over a checked red-and-white shirt and dark blue jeans that showed off his (still) incredible body. The hair was less wild and newly peppered with gray, which made him look even more suave and dignified.

One of the founding partners of this company, JDM had to be the most enigmatic man Jared had ever met. A mathematical whiz kid at fourteen, a Harvard dropout at nineteen, two tours in the Gulf War as a marine before being discharged for his injuries, and a tech entrepreneur worth millions all by the time he turned thirty. JDM was the epitome of achievement and success. Someone Jared looked up to and admired, and yes – Alona was right – someone he’d once harbored a massive crush on, for a pretty long time.

JDM had in fact been the one who hired Jared to his first full-time job. He still remembered the interview vividly. JDM strode into the small breakout room, wearing a grey Zeppelin t-shirt and faded jeans that had clearly seen better days. His hair was tousled, his glasses dangled on a metallic cord around his neck, and he had a pen resting atop his right ear lobe. Jared suspected JDM had no idea it was actually there. He was proven right when the man sat down, plonked Jared’s resume on the table and immediately started rummaging his pockets for something to write with.

“Uh,” Jared tried to catch his attention, then purposely pushed a lock of hair behind his own right earlobe.

JDM took a second to get it, and when he did, he snorted. “Sorry about that. I’m not usually this disorganized, I promise. We’re getting ready to release a new game and… it’s just a little crazy around here right now.”

Jared leaned forward in his seat. “Everyone I’ve met here today looks extremely exhausted but also incredibly psyched at the same time. Whatever it is you guys do here, sir, I want to be a part of it.”

JDM smiled and his eyes sparkled. “Of course you know, it could just be the spiked coffee.”

They chuckled together, and JDM looked at his resume again. “So, Jared… I see you’re a graphic design major from Steinhardt. Magna cum laude – impressive! Fresh out of college?”

“Yes, sir. I don’t have any work experience but I am a fast learner. And I also don’t have too much coding exposure but…”

“We can teach you those things. What I cannot teach you is creativity – which I see here from your folio you have tons and tons of. And commitment – that’s the other, insipid little thing I cannot teach you millennials, no matter how hard I try…”

“Well, in defense of _my generation_ , commitment comes from passion. And you know us millennials can be incredibly passionate about the things we truly believe in.”

“So you’re saying it’s up to me to first make you believe in this company?”

“Actually you already did that. I attended your presentation at the NYU campus last fall, and I’ve followed your career ever since. I believe in your vision, sir, and I want to help you achieve it.”

The entrepreneur studied Jared’s face as if searching for something, long enough to make the artist uncomfortable.

“So when can you start?”

That was the shortest job interview of Jared’s life, and he hadn’t felt the need to sit for another after that. Not until eight years later.

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

The meeting ended and people started filing out. Jared waited to see if he’d get a chance to say hi. But JDM seemed busy with other people who also knew him from back when Morgames was just a fledgling startup, and JDM its only iconic boss. Couple years after hiring Jared, he’d sold the firm for an obscene amount of money and taken early retirement. But apparently the board had brought him back to help transform the company that’d been floundering lately. Like Steve Jobs.

The accomplishments of men like Jobs and Morgan never ceased to amaze him. Not the money or the success per se, but more the way their minds worked, how they believed in themselves and their ideas so ferociously that nothing could deter them from their path. Even Jensen was like a younger, scrappier version of JDM. They both had the same outlook towards life. They were ambitious and driven, confident and self-assured, almost to the point of cockiness.

These were traits Jared desperately wished he had himself. Maybe that’s why he was so attracted to these men?

His lack of self-esteem felt especially acute as he watched JDM regaling the groupies surrounding him with his war stories. Just because JDM remembered Jared’s name didn’t mean the man would be interested in spending any more time with him. So he turned around and headed for the door.

“Hey, Padalecki, wait up!”

Shocked out of his mind, Jared turned to find JDM breaking away from the group and jogging over to him. “Good to see you, kid! I’m glad you’re still here and we’ll be working together again.”

Jared simpered, unable to suppress his giddiness as he shook the extended hand vigorously. “Me too! This is such a wonderful surprise, boss.”

“Not that again,” JDM chided, putting an arm around Jared’s shoulder and walking him out of the boardroom. “You know I don’t like being called ‘boss’ by my peeps. You and I – we’re friends, right?”

The smile on the veteran’s face could have lit up a hundred villages without electricity. Jared grinned back just as widely, at least he tried to. “Always, Jeff.”

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

“So, you’re married!” JDM exclaimed, eyeing the platinum band on Jared’s left hand.

“Yeah, about two and a half years now.”

“Nice, congratulations, late as they are.”

“Thank you, I’ve been very lucky.”

They decided to get lunch at an old dim sum place that JDM loved, and had miraculously survived the high property rents in the city. JDM used to bring the whole office here for lunches and dinners. Of course, back then they were only like twenty people total.

“So is it anyone I know?”

“Uh, no. Jensen and I met about four years ago.” JDM had long moved on by then.

“You weren’t dating anyone back when I was here, right?” JDM laughed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if working for me killed your love life.”

Jared laughed too. “Nah, nothing like that. I’m just glad I waited, and when Jensen came along, everything worked out perfectly, like it was meant to be. You know?”

He shivered visibly, feeling his heart overflow with the immense love it held for his husband.

JDM smirked, eyes glinting with mirth. “Tell me about him. How tall is he? How did you guys meet? Where did he propose?”

Jared blushed a little, as one was probably expected to when teased. He crossed his legs and sipped his water, feeling a little conscious of the way JDM kept staring at him so intently.

“He is an architect. The brick and mortar kind. He’d just made partner at his firm and…”

“Whoa, wait, how old is he?”

Jared giggled. “Yeah, he gets that a lot. He was like a month shy of thirty the day we met. It was at the Brandy Library, you know the one in Tribeca?”

“Didn’t take you for a brandy man.”

“I’m not! But Benedict is, you remember him?”

JDM closed his eyes and shook his head. “Don’t remind me.”

Jared chuckled again. Yeah, Robbie was a good friend and a great programmer, but JDM never could get used to his weird humor. Idiot savant, that’s what he used to call him.

“I think he was trying to cheer me up or something. I was working long hours, not really getting along with Cohan – my boss, my cat had just run away…”

“Aw, your cat ran away?”

“She was in heat, I think.”

JDM guffawed. “Okay, so perfect frame of mind to want to get laid, I get it. Enter: Jensen… what?”

“Ackles,” Jared said, recalling exactly how Jensen had introduced himself three years ago.

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

He’d been watching Jared from afar.

Jared and Robbie were seated at the bar when he came up the stairs with a couple of his friends. They were dressed in business casuals. The loosened ties and pushed-up sleeves said they were celebrating something, and the party had been on for a while. But one look at Jared and the man seemed to sober up faster than one might consider humanly possible.

He stared at Jared blatantly. Jared blushed a hot red and ducked his head, before somehow finding the guts to look up and stare back as well. Funnily enough, the song playing that very moment was a jazz cover of ‘I saw her standing there’ by the Beatles.

“You know,” Benedict interrupted his cross-bar flirting with the handsome stranger. “You could just tell me to get lost and I will.”

He thumped Jared’s back unexpectedly hard before heading off to find some action of his own. Leaving Jared alone and available for the blond Adonis to swoop in, not a minute later.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“May I?”

“Please.”

He took the seat Robbie vacated and immediately shifted it closer to Jared. For a second or two he just sat there, staring into Jared’s eyes, like he’d been rendered speechless by whatever he saw in there.

“Don’t you just love situational music?” He smirked, talking about the Beatles song. Jared smiled noncommittally, unsure how else to respond.

“I’m sorry,” blondie chuckled, scratching his head adorably. “You probably won’t believe me when I say this but… I’ve never felt _nervous_ before. That’s just… not been part of my experiences so far. So, this is kind of a first for me.”

Jared licked his lips. It could very well be a line, but something in those gorgeous green eyes and that laid-back voice assured him of the man’s sincerity. Mostly Jared concluded that someone like him wouldn’t really need to be dishonest to impress someone.

“Well, not that I do this a lot myself but… you could start with a name, maybe, if you like?”

“Oh, right. My name is… um, wow, uh… Jensen. Jensen Ackles. Or Jackles! That’s what my friends call me, or Jen, if they’re trying to annoy me. Or Jay. Just Jay if you really slack off. Take your pick! Though you look like a creative person, you might come up with something completely new…”

He rambled on like a total goofball, and the graphic designer did not stand a chance. It was love at first sight.

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

The food arrived and Jeff and Jared dug in, in no real rush to get back to the office. Not like Cohan could tell him off for having lunch with the new fucking CEO.

“So, beachfront in San Diego, huh?” Jared asked, adjusting his hold around a pair of chopsticks. “That sounds fantastic. Why would you ever come back?”

“Ah, what can I say, I missed the claustrophobia.”

Jared smirked. “Sure. And the honking too, I bet.”

“Oh definitely the honking. And the maniacal bicyclists that come out of nowhere, stop for no red lights anywhere…”

“The mouthwatering smells of the subway.”

“The three-hour line outside Shake Shack when all you want is some cheese fries.”

“The traffic jams.”

“The 9/11 conspiracy theorists.”

“Tourists! God, so many tourists…”

“The naked cowboy.”

Jared snorted at that. “Really?”

“I’ve been stalking him on YouTube for six years, and I have the playlists to prove it!”

The conversation flowed seamlessly from one topic to another, as they reminisced old times and caught up on all the things they’d missed. It occurred to Jared much, much later that JDM didn’t reveal much of his own life, but expressed a lot of interest in Jared’s instead.

“I have to say, it’s really nice to see you so relaxed, Jared. I think back to the way you were back then – young and still coming to terms with who you were. But I see none of those insecurities you dealt with back then…”

Jared looked down at his food. “Yeah, I don’t think I ever thanked you enough for mentoring me, Jeff. You… understood what I was dealing with, and never held it against me. You encouraged me and supported me like nobody else had in a very, very long time.”

Jared bit his lip and swallowed his surging emotions down. Comparing JDM to his father would not only be utterly unprofessional, there was also the possibility that it might offend JDM by insinuating that he looked older than he was. Which wasn’t the case at all. Jared knew Jeff was only about sixteen years older to him, or so.

“Hey,” JDM tapped Jared’s forearm briefly to make him look up. “It was my pleasure, Jared. And what are friends for, after all, right?”

Jared nodded gratefully. He took another bite of his wonton and let JDM change the topic back to Jensen. Jensen, he could talk about forever.

“So how long did it take him to propose? Or did _you_ propose?”

Jared smiled coyly. “No, he did. And to be honest, it was a little spur of the moment. We’d been living together for over a year at that point.”

Things had progressed fairly quickly after their first meeting in Tribeca. They went on two more dates before Jared invited Jensen up to his apartment, the one he shared with Benedict across the Hudson in Jersey City.

The first time they had sex was on his rickety twin-sized bed, and they broke it. The next time they did it in Jensen’s loft when he had Jared over and cooked dinner for him. Not that Jared shared any of that with his boss. But just thinking about how quickly they went from casual dating to “move in with me, right the hell now!” still made him blush and he could have sworn JDM saw it.

“So the proposal, wow, you really want to hear this?”

“Of course! And don’t spare the gory details.”

“Okay, well, it was June 24, 2011. You remember that date?”

JDM narrowed his eyes. “Should I?”

“It was the day the Senate passed the Marriage Equality Act legalizing gay marriage in the great state of New York.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right.”

“You should’ve seen it, Jeff. It was like the whole city was out on the streets celebrating. I got late getting home that night, the subway was a total mess. When I finally got there, Jensen was waiting for me. The TV was on, and he was standing like inches away from it with his fists on his hips. Lost in the news coverage so intently, he didn’t even hear me come in.”

Jared could still see that image of Jensen so clearly in his head, like it’d happened yesterday.

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

“Hey you!” Jared had called out, stepping out of his sneakers at the door. When Jensen didn’t respond, he frowned and stepped in closer.

“Babe, you okay?”

Jensen looked up then and although his posture didn’t change, his face melted into the most amazing expression of joy and pride.

“Did you see this? They passed it. They actually passed it.”

“Yeah! Isn’t that great? We should go out if you’re not too tired. It’s a party out there but I’m warning you, driving will not be fun tonight.”

Jared walked over and embraced his usually cynical slash pessimistic, and now completely astounded boyfriend. In turn, Jensen joined their mouths into a loud and passionate kiss – the kind that was mostly chaste but promised so, so much more in the near future.

“Look at you.”

“Look at _you_.”

The Armani silver slacks and black shirt fit his lithe, toned body so snugly, like they’d been spray-painted on him. God, his boyfriend was hot. In comparison, Jared was dressed as his usual, nerdy self – tattered jeans and purple sweatshirt that said ‘Always be yourself! Unless you can be Batman. Then always be Batman.’

“Jared, I was thinking…before you came in… just two seconds ago, uh…”

The younger man felt his breath hitch in his throat. He already knew what Jensen was working up to. He’d known for a while. He’d felt it, wanted it for even longer than that. But he just never had the audacity or the nerve to bring it up himself.

“I was thinking,” Jensen tried again, “we should celebrate. Of course we should celebrate, and…”

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

“And?” JDM asked, hooked on to Jared’s story. The man clearly didn’t handle suspenseful intermissions very well.

Jared chuckled. “And nothing. He wussed out that night.”

“WHAT??”

“Yeah, but two days later, he took us away to our favorite vacation spot in Europe. And there he got down on one knee. We didn’t want to wait so, we got married in the courthouse a month later.”

JDM pretended to wipe a tear off one eye and Jared threw a napkin at him.

“So from all of that, what I gather is that your husband’s a man of instinct and impulses. Very unlike you who plans and thinks and over-thinks, and over-analyzes…”

Jared pretended to be offended. “And here I thought you appreciated me for being meticulous and detail-oriented!”

“Oh, I appreciate you for many things, Jared. Trust me. You always underestimated yourself, but I never did.”

Jared smiled gratefully again. JDM had a way of making Jared feel good about himself, making him believe in his own worth. JDM had given him that much-needed boost when he was all alone in the world. Basically when he had nothing, he had JDM. It was a debt he could simply never repay.

“Come on, time to get back to work. I need you on my transformation initiative, Jared.”

“I’m all yours!”

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

Jared wasn’t the only one hand-picked to be part of the inner circle. There was also Cohan, the bane of his existence, but she must have earned the spot on merit or JDM would never have brought her in. There were a couple other folks representing other parts of the company. JDM needed their expertise to understand this beast that’d sprung out of the baby he gave up for adoption years ago.

The team spent practically every waking minute of the next two days in JDM’s office, poring over documents, white-boarding, butting heads to come up with ideas that would impress the boss. Thankfully, Jared managed to hold his own. And then it was Thursday night, and everyone was exhausted and ready to take a break.

“All right, good job everyone!” JDM announced, “Let’s wrap this up. We’ll pick it back up first thing tomorrow morning.”

With that, the team members started to say their goodbyes and shuffle out.

“Jared, do you mind sticking around? I want to review the wireframes for the app again.”

Cohan jumped in before Jared could respond. “I can stay too, if you like! Jared and I worked on those wireframes together. I mean, I supervised.”

Jared wanted to roll his eyes. Ever the competitive _child_.

“That’s okay, Lauren,” JDM flashed his pearly whites at her even as he started to lead her to the door. “You have a one-year old to get home to. I don’t want to keep you any later than absolutely necessary. Go on, we’ll catch up in the morning.”

She left reluctantly, glowering at Jared on her way out. Jared waved at her a little cheekily, although frankly he’d have preferred to get out too.

“Don’t worry,” JDM said, turning to him after closing the door. “We’re not talking shop. Just wanted to unwind after a long-ass week. Beer?”

“Uh, sure!” Jared leaned back against the couch he’d been sitting on. Alcohol really wasn’t his thing. But a beer he could do. Besides, Jensen wasn’t back from his trip yet, so it’s not like he was in any hurry to get back home.

The new CEO went behind his desk where he kept a mini-fridge, and pulled two BrewDogs out of it. Meanwhile, Jared looked around and studied JDM’s new office, styled in rich mahogany and black leather. Decadent, unlike his own personal tastes that ran more towards modern and minimalistic.

“I wanted to thank you again, Jared,” said JDM as he came over with the beer and sat beside Jared on the couch.

“Cheers,” Jared echoed as they clanked their bottles. “Thank me for what?”

“For making me feel welcome. I’ve been away so long, and with most of the original band gone… honestly it would have been too hard to adjust, if it weren’t for you.”

Jared smiled shyly and looked down into his lap. JDM’s words had the same effect on him as the alcohol – created a warm flush in his gut that traveled all the way up to his face. He noticed JDM’s right leg casually brushing up against his left one, but chose to ignore it. They talked about random, everyday things like basketball and IPAs, which turned into a long debate about the super terrible commercials on TV these days. And which then somehow looped back around to the history of video games in America. Before he knew it, Jared was on his third beer, and he didn’t mind their legs touching each other at all.

“I cannot believe you’ve never played Donkey Kong! Oh my God! You poor kid!”

“Stop. It’s not a big deal!”

“Not a big deal?!? It’s only the most popular arcade video game of all time! Ever!”

“ _One of_ , and whatever, I didn’t have many friends growing up, okay. Nobody ever took me to an arcade, so there!”

Jared blurted out the truth jokingly. He realized how much he’d given away when JDM stopped laughing and turned towards Jared with a strange expression on his face.

“Wish I’d been there, kiddo. Back then, I wish I’d been there to take care of you.”

Jared gulped around the lump that’d materialized in the middle of his throat. His senses were dulled by the beer, his reflexes mellow. So when JDM raised a hand to caress his face, brush his unruly hair out of his eyes, Jared let him. And when JDM leaned in to kiss his beer-wet lips, Jared didn’t even move.

Before he knew it, he was being led to lie back on the couch, with JDM’s entire weight pressing down on him, keeping him there. The kissing started out slow and gentle, then progressed to hungry and all-consuming in a matter of seconds. Jared couldn’t help himself as his mouth opened wide, letting JDM’s tongue in, coiling around his own, dragging it into a dance that he was too polite to refuse. His hands couldn’t decide if they should push JDM away, or drag him closer and cling to those broad shoulders never to let go again. So they did nothing instead, just lay on either side of his head, twitching uselessly.

The ex-marine ground his burgeoning cock against Jared’s while the younger man squirmed to try and get closer still. JDM’s fingers trailed down Jared’s stomach, lifted his shirt up and out of the way, before proceeding to undo the trousers.

“Ah! Fuck!!” Jared writhed, spreading his legs to make more room for Jeff’s frame on top of him.

JDM’s right hand was hot like a furnace, unlike the left one that’d been holding his beer. It fondled Jared’s balls and taint before wrapping itself around his shaft. Jared moaned and thrust into the large hand, arching up from the couch in the process. A minute later, JDM unzipped and lined himself up against Jared. For a few seconds he held them together in both hands – one hot and one cold – sensations so unbelievable the younger man almost lost it before they’d even started.

“Patience, sweet boy, let’s do this together…”

JDM squeezed the base of his partner’s cock hard, until Jared whimpered and settled. Then he set a slow, arduous rhythm of rubbing back and forth, up and down, stripping them together and making the men moan in unison. Jared thrust up one last time before exploding all over his boss’ hand. And JDM followed soon after, grunting his way to a loud and boisterous climax.

“God, Jared, you’re so beautiful. So flawless…”

Jared buried his nose in the crook of his lover’s neck and breathed in deeply. The cologne he was so intimately familiar with – Jensen’s cologne – seeped into his nostrils and relaxed his muscles; made him smile like he was blitzed. He ran his hands down the strong shoulders to the narrow waist, and back up again to entangle in the tresses around Jensen’s face. That’s when he remembered.

Jensen had shorter, silkier hair.

He blinked his eyes open, struggling to decipher the blurry face hovering above him. It didn’t take long to remember, and then he wished he hadn’t.

“Oh God…” he tried to pull away and out from under JDM. But the older man didn’t let him budge.

“Shh, hey, it’s okay…”

“Jeff, I… this… oh no, oh fuck.”

Suddenly he realized how ragged his breathing was, more than it should be from a regular roll in the hay. His body knew long before his brain could even begin to process what he’d done. It explained why he was in the middle of a full-blown panic attack and not even fucking aware of it. The fact that Jared hadn’t had an attack in more than two years may have had something to do with it as well.

“Shh, it’s all good. Just relax, Jared. Breathe for me.”

The panic deepened the more he struggled. Jared had no choice but to quit struggling and let his head flop back onto the couch. He focused on getting his breathing under control, following JDM’s instructions as he counted off each inhale and exhale. Eventually the attack passed, but it left him drained and boneless, and with an overwhelming need to cry.

“Easy now, that’s it kiddo, you’re okay.”

No, he was _not_ okay. Nothing would ever be okay again.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to pass out. Unconsciousness would be a blessing at this point. But there was something more urgent he needed to do first, something at the tip of his thoughts though he couldn’t quite get to it…

Fingers unbuttoning his shirt. That was his first clue.

“What are you doing?”

“Shh, just let me. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this…”

He struggled as JDM pushed the ends of his shirt apart. “J-Jeff, no, please…”

“I’ve been so alone for so many years. Just like you were when I hired you. Remember that? You needed me then. I need you now, Jared, please…”

Jared’s mouth dropped open but he didn’t know what to say, or how to react. The larger-than-life specter of Jeffrey Dean Morgan, the untouchable, infallible, perfection of a man, was starting to crumble.

“Don’t fight this. You’ll see how good it can be. How it ought to be for us…”

“No, stop, no…”

It was when the overpowering hands started to flip him over, that Jared finally broke free of the trance that’d trapped his mind and body all night. Planting his hands against JDM’s chest, he pushed hard enough to send his boss toppling to the floor besides the couch.

“Asshole,” Jared muttered, and pushed himself off the couch. Quickly he fixed his clothes and reached for his jacket and laptop, all the while eyeing the other man distrustfully.

JDM had landed on his ass with a grunt. And he just sat there smirking, leering at Jared drunkenly, almost affectionately.

“He’ll never forgive you, you know,” he drawled, stretching his long legs and crossing his ankles. “I know guys like him. Hell, I _am_ him.”

Jared started, looking back at the older man with naked terror in his eyes.

“What, you didn’t think I’d noticed?”

Jared feared if he stayed any longer he’d have another hyperventilating fit which would spoil the dramatic exit he was trying to make. So he ran, as fast as he could and did not turn back.

“Hey, I’ll always be here for you, kiddo!” JDM called out through the door, even as Jared slammed it shut with a vehemence behind him.

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

He stood under the shower for a very, very long time.

He scrubbed at every inch of his skin that still burned where JDM’s beard had dragged against it, making it sting more. He crouched in the middle of the stall, shaking so hard his bones rattled. The tears rolled down his face freely, circling the drain along with the picture-perfect life he’d worked so hard to build for himself.

JDM was right – Jensen was never going to forgive him. Even if by some miracle he did, he was never going to forget. And the sword of his anger and disappointment would hang over them for as long as they lived together.

Of course all of that would happen only if Jensen found out.

Jared stepped out of the shower and quickly dried himself off. Then, avoiding catching any glimpse of himself in any of the ten thousand mirrors on the way from the bathroom, he crawled into bed. This bed he shared with his husband, his husband he loved so much. Then how could he have betrayed him like that?

How the hell could he let this happen?

He wished desperately for this to just be a nightmare. Tomorrow he would wake up and everything would be as it ought to be. JDM would never have returned to New York, and Jared and Jensen would still be happily married, for ever after.

Except Jared knew he wasn’t asleep. Hell, he wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight.

He could just bury it, shove it all under the carpet. Like that other thing he’d been hiding from Jensen all these years…

His cellphone buzzed. It was JDM. Jared flung it to the farthest wall of the bedroom. It crashed and fell to the carpeted floor, annoyingly still intact. A minute later he was notified he had voicemail. Jared turned over to face the other side of the room, away from the offensive little device and tried to sleep. An hour later he was wide awake and more miserable than ever. Sluggishly, he got up and retrieved the phone, then pulled the message up to play.

“Jared, I am so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. But listen…” the man exhaled noisily into the speaker, “Nobody else needs to know, _if_ you just come back to work, okay? I need you here, kiddo. Don’t let this get in the way of our beautiful friend–”

Jared emailed his resignation to Cohan in the morning. He didn’t go in to pick up his things nor his final paycheck.

JDM left several more messages by phone and by email. Jared deleted them all, added him to his spam blocker. He’d have changed his number if he could, except he didn’t know how he’d explain it to his husband. Speaking of, Jensen was due to return in two days on Sunday.

Jared intended to pull it together before that. He rehearsed his story hundreds of times, planning to keep it simple.

 

_“It’s just not working out with Cohan. You met her at the Christmas party, remember? She’s so demanding, so insecure, I just can’t put up with her anymore!”_

_“Well it’s about damn time! Good for you, baby. You’ve been at that dead-end job too long anyway. They don’t value you like they should.”_

 

And that’d be the end of it. He could always find another job. It’d probably take longer in this economy, but maybe he could switch to freelance consulting, work from home even like Jensen. Wouldn’t that be cool?

But JDM was getting angrier and creepier with every message. Jared wouldn’t be surprised if the man staged a ‘running into’ with his husband on purpose.

Saturday morning snuck up on him faster than he was prepared for. He was still in bed long past dawn, drifting in and out of sleep. He decided to forgo his workout and lay curled up on his side, the sheets twisted messily around his naked body from the waist down. Then the bed subtly dipped behind him.

Before he could register another’s presence in the room with him, a warm, moist set of lips pressed softly into the nape of his neck.

Jared started violently.

“Hey, hey, it’s just me!”

He spun around to find his husband leaning over him and frowning in concern.

“Jensen?”

Jared practically threw himself onto his husband, tackling him to his back before burrowing his face in the crook of Jensen’s neck. Jensen chuckled, bringing his arms around Jared and holding him tightly to himself.

“What’s with you, baby? I wasn’t gone that long, was I?”

“Actually, you’re home early,” Jared’s teasing was a little muffled owing to his lips planted at Jensen’s jugular.

“Can’t a guy surprise his guy on a lovely Saturday morning with breakfast in bed?” Jensen winked, the effect a little marred by the puffiness under his eyes, thanks to the red-eye he took from Tokyo. In fact he was still wearing his overcoat and muddy boots he should have left way back at the main door.

“Where’s the breakfast?”

“There’s really no pleasing you, is there?”

Jared chuckled and Jensen arched up, drawing Jared down into a kiss. Though the younger man tried to crane away. “Ugh, morning breath.”

“Can’t be worse than airplane breath! Come here, I have mint in my mouth.”

Jared chuckled and gave in, letting his husband kiss him like he hadn’t seen Jared in six years, not six days. When they parted, he studied Jared’s face intently. “You okay?”

Jared shifted and blinked. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

“It’s half past eight. You’re still in bed. Housekeeping had to take the dogs out. And I’d nag at you for slacking off, except you look like you haven’t slept all week.”

Jared gulped, unable to think of the appropriate response that would ring true when in his heart he knew it’d be anything but. Having quit his job would definitely be a valid excuse to look stressed, wouldn’t it?

Then Jensen put a hand across his forehead, checking for a fever, and his eyes watered. In that moment he knew he wouldn’t be able to go through with this.

“Jensen…” he said, catching his husband’s hand in his own, wishing he’d get to keep holding it forever.

“I… I need to tell you something.”

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

The silence lasted for an hour after Jared stopped talking. He’d tried explaining his decade-long admiration for JDM, his gratefulness… the fact that he’d been drinking. He’d reminded Jensen several times how he put an end to it before it went ‘too far’.

Jensen sat on an accent chair by their full-length bedroom windows. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, rubbing two knuckles over his forehead over and over again.

“Jensen,” Jared tried, voice dripping with tears he couldn’t possibly hold back. “Please… say something.”

But the architect didn’t say a word. He didn’t yell, didn’t ask any questions. At least not that day. Eventually he walked out of the apartment, fortuitously still dressed in his outdoor clothes. Said he was going out for a ‘run’, didn’t come back until after sunset.

Jared paced the length of their home all day, thinking, crying, hyperventilating, arguing with himself… planning the words to say, the apologies to repeat, over and over again. He even wrote it all down on paper just in case he lost his composure in front of Jensen and needed to read it out. But when Jensen finally returned later that night, he had no interest in hearing Jared’s words, and only had six for him in return.

“I want custody of the dogs.”

 

*****|***|***|*****

 


	4. Can’t fix what you refuse to confront

  


**October 3, 2016**

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

If Andermatt is a picturesque Monet in the bright morning sun, it’s a breathtaking Van Gogh in the mellow evening light.

Jared loves to do this – sit quietly, absolutely still, and watch nature as she goes through her multiple outfit changes from the break of dawn to the fall of night. And if that sounds a little perverted, imagine how bad it’d sound if he referred to her as ‘mother.’

Jared laughs at his own terrible joke, and continues to hug his knees close to his chest. It’s getting darker and colder. He’s starting to lose sensation in his extremities. Which is almost a welcome distraction from the whirlwind of thoughts inside his frail, deranged, mind.

That’s right – he admits it. Who else would cheat on their life partner, their soulmate, but someone who was fucking weak and mentally incapable of making good, rational choices?

A loud, jarring noise breaks him out of his reverie, and Jared flinches so hard he would have most definitely slipped off the edge if it weren’t for the railings. He turns, glowering hard at the source of that offending noise. It turns out to be a 100 watt high-power siren, sitting on top of a Volkswagen hatchback with the word “Polizei” painted across its side.

“Entschuldigung sie,” a female officer calls out to him, stepping out of the vehicle. She is alone, and takes a couple of steps closer before stopping at a cautious distance, in case Jared turns out to be a psycho killer or something.

“Könne sie dütsch reede?”

Jared sighs heavily. No, he does not speak German and even if he did, he’s not in the mood to chat.

The cop is intruding on his quality ‘me’ time, all nine hours of it and still counting. Obviously Jared is angry. At least he tells himself he’s angry, having his plans to put himself out of his misery thwarted _again_ by factors beyond his control. But a part of him, a tiny, minuscule one, is somewhat relieved. Maybe even gratified by the occurrence of what may well be a second divine intervention. If you could call a beat cop that.

“What are you doing here?” She demands in English this time, sternly, and Jared is forced to reconsider her divinity.

Weird thing about European languages – so polite in their own native tongue, but their accented English makes them sound harsher than they probably intend to be.

Jared turns to look at her for the first time. She is at least five foot nine, with a mop of red velvet hair tied back but peeking out from under her hat. She’s dressed in a long quilted jacket and frumpy overalls that pass for the local LEO uniform around here. The face is makeup-less but arresting (no pun intended.) The sharp, stoic glare she fixes him with gives him pause, and he stops ogling her to turn away again.

He still hasn’t replied to her questions.

“Mister – you cannot be here. The gorge is closed to visitors after six PM. It’s also too cold for you to be outside without a jacket. Come on, let’s get you back to your hotel.”

“I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”

“Why is that?”

Jared doesn’t respond. He feels a crick in his neck and an ache in his shoulders he didn’t notice until now.

“Have you ingested any hallucinogens?”

He scoffs lightly. “I wish.”

“What is your name?”

“What is _your_ name?”

She smirks and takes another tentative step closer. “I am Lieutenant Alaina Huffman. And you are?”

“Jared… A-Ackles. Jared Ackles.”

“All right. Why don’t you come away from the edge now, Mr. Ackles?”

“Say that again.”

She stares at him blankly. “Say what again?”

“My… name.”

“Mr. Ackles?”

Jared squeezes his eyes tight, and soaks in the words like the first drops of rain on parched land. She gives him a few seconds, then clearly runs out of patience.

“Stand up for me, Herr Ackles. Can you stand up?”

What kind of a stupid question is that? Of course he can stand. Except his limbs feel frozen and cramped and the slightest movement feels like millions of needles crammed beneath his skin. The lethal combination of cold, hunger and dehydration has caught up with him at last. Despite the pain though, he is keenly aware of how precariously balanced on the edge he sits.

“I, uh, I could use some help,” he admits, and quietly smiles at the irony. If only he’d been so upfront about needing a different kind of help years ago.

“Give me your hand.”

“…”

“It will be okay, Herr Ackles,” she says, her voice softening for the first time in this conversation. “I will not let you fall, I promise.”

She’s being so careful, handling him like he’s something fragile, something precious. He doesn’t know how to tell her he’s already broken and basically worthless ( _“Black lenses, Jared” – “Shut up, Dr. Beaver.”_ ) He definitely doesn’t know how to explain to her that he’s been falling for years. All that's left for him to do is go splat, any time now.

Then he looks up into the woman’s solemn face, and thinks maybe today is not that day after all.

The drive back to the Chedi is quiet, but not uncomfortable. From the backseat, Jared spots a picture of three adorable, red-headed children tacked to the dashboard. Jared thinks she must be a damn good mother, and hopes for the sake of the kids she wears Kevlar every time she leaves the house.

“Would you like a chocolate, Herr Ackles?”

Jared’s stomach growls in voracious agreement as he gratefully accepts a big bar of Lindt from his savior.

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

Lieutenant Huffman insists on escorting Jared inside the hotel, and walks him to the concierge desk. Sebastian is still on duty, as luck would have it.

“Ah, there you are, Herr Padalecki!”

Jared is glad the cop is standing _behind_ him so he doesn’t have to meet her eyes. “Uh, yeah, I seem to have lost my key, again.”

“Well, we expected you to be on your way back to America by now. Are you planning to stay with us longer? I wasn’t sure if you were _able_ to…”

Sebastian’s being an asshole again. He’s probably seen enough people come and go at this hotel to distinguish the elite from the riff-raff, like Jared.

“We can have your things packed and down here in fifteen minutes so you may be able to catch the 7:30 train back to Zurich…”

He’s also glancing nervously at the officer beside Jared, wondering what misdemeanors the American has been up to, to warrant being chaperoned by the fucking law. Best to get him out as soon as possible. Jared can’t say he disagrees. Best he got as far away as possible from Jensen and his girlfriend too.

“I’ll pack myself, thanks,” Jared snaps back, before turning to Alaina with half a wince and half a smile.

“You can go now, I’ll be fine.”

“I can drive you to the train station if you like.”

“Uh, no, thank you. I’ll just Uber it. Or taxi, whatever.”

“Y at-il un problème, officier?” Sebastian jumps in then, switching to French to deliberately cut Jared out of the conversation.

Jared rolls his eyes, and waits patiently (tapping his fingers on the glossy tabletop just to annoy Sebastian) while the two of them engage in a rather long conversation. Whatever she says seems to put Sebastian in his place, if only for a little while.

“Here you go, Herr Padalecki,” Sebastian slides a key card over to Jared, who quickly grabs it and nods at Alaina in a brief goodbye.

“Also, your new bill, sir! We had to charge you for today, and unfortunately we couldn’t apply the discounted rate for you anymore.”

He whispers the word ‘discounted’ like it’s a dirty curse word. Jared huffs, but is too tired to respond to this new provocation. He’d love to see the look on the bastard’s face when they find out Jared’s credit cards were maxed out two days ago. He’s already going to hell. (Apparently that’s what happens to Catholics – miserable in life, even more so in death if you try to end it.) So how could adding a couple of defaults to his list of sins make it any worse?

He ignores the bill and walks away, numbly… slowly. It’s not like he has anywhere in particular to be.

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

When he opens the door to his suite and steps inside – Jensen is there, waiting for him.

Jared throws his head back, looks up into the heavens (Chedi ceilings are truly heavenly), and laughs.

“That fucker wouldn’t even tell me if you’d booked a suite here, and he lets you into mine?!?”

The older man is perched against the back of the couch in the living room. His legs are crossed at the ankles, his hands hooked casually in his jeans pockets, like he has no place to be either. And in response to Jared’s belligerent question, he simply shrugs.

“I didn’t have to ask anyone for your room number. I knew this is the one you’d book.”

This is the suite where Jensen had asked Jared to marry him.

“I mean, uh, I figured it out, a-after talking to you this morning.”

Jared sighs wearily and turns away, steps out of his shoes and socks just to have something to do.

“I waited outside for a couple of hours. But you didn’t show. So then…”

“Let me guess. You charmed the pants off the cleaning maid and she let you in.”

“It was a waiter, actually.”

Great. Just great.

“What are you doing here, Jensen?”

The older man doesn’t respond. All the lights in the suite are turned down low, but for the yellow floor lamp beside Jensen glimmering timidly, enough to let Jared see every exquisite detail on the architect’s face.

His posture looks relaxed, but there’s tension in those imposing shoulders, Jared can tell. The veins in Jensen’s neck bulge with the effort of holding it together – like maybe he’s trying not to give in to another angry outburst. They had their fair share of those during the divorce proceedings. Surely Jensen managed to get it all out of his system then?

“You have something to say. Why don’t you just get on with it?”

Jensen snorts at that. “Wish it were that easy. Things are never easy with you, Jared. They never were, never will be. I don’t know why I’d even expect that.”

“Look, I need to pack, I don’t want to fight. So whatever it is…”

“I tried moving on so many times,” Jensen carries on like he didn’t even hear Jared.

The younger man freezes. Did Jensen just… can’t be… was Jared hallucinating again?

“I threw myself into work. I threw myself into alcohol. Nothing worked.”

This is _so_ not what Jared was expecting to hear. His legs tremble, from astonishment, anticipation, exhaustion, emotion – take your pick, until he’s forced to sit himself down at a small coffee table, a good four yards away from Jensen.

“Dated men, women, younger, older, colleagues, strangers, Tinder, Grindr…”

“If you’re trying to get a rise out of me, seriously, ‘A’ for effort but I’m too tired right now.”

“People from all over the world, really. If you thought I traveled too much before, you should see me now…”

Jared just closes his eyes and slinks back in his chair as low as he can go.

“I don’t know, maybe it’s the loft. It’s so hard living there by myself. Which is weird because I did live there happily, _alone_ , before you came along. But when I tried to sell it, I couldn’t go through with that either.”

Jensen stands up straight, his hands still in his pockets, and an expression on his face that defies all comprehension. He approaches Jared slowly, who feels his breaths start to get shallow again.

“Probably a good thing, because that’s how I knew you were coming here. Misha might have still had your old information on file. So back in July after you made your booking, he called at the loft, got the machine and left a message.”

> _Hello, Mr. Padalecki! This is Misha Collins, hotel manager at the Chedi Andermatt. How are you, my friend? It’s been such a long time, almost three years now! I was delighted to see your request come through earlier today. I’m calling to confirm your booking for the first weekend in October. All other details are in your confirmation email. We’re very happy to host you once again, Jared! Please do let me know if you need anything… looking forward to seeing you soon!_

 

Jared closes his eyes, starting to understand at last.

“So you decided to, what… follow me here, to see who _I_ was dating?”

Jensen bites his lip but shrugs again. “I don’t deny it. I wanted to see who my… replacement in your life was. And also I felt this…anger, like I’d never thought I’d feel again.”

“Why?”

“ _Why?!_ I haven’t been able to come back here in three years. Couldn’t even stand the thought of this place! And I find out you’re coming for a weekend getaway, and apparently you’re taking your new boyfriend to _our_ spot? How was that supposed to make me feel?”

Jared exhales deeply, a part of him ecstatic and ready to weep with relief because… yeah.

“So you lied this morning, when I asked if you’ve been coming here often.”

“I implied,” Jensen retorts with a shrug. But Jared should be the last one to preach to anyone about honesty so he lets it go.

“I thought you made it pretty clear the last time we talked that you’d moved on.”

“Guess I lied about that too, just didn’t know it yet.”

Jensen stops walking towards him, and turns around to walk away instead. It makes Jared regret opening his mouth to speak at all.

“I thought I was doing so well, ignoring and suppressing the part of me that still misses you. But then _this_ happens and I’m right back to where we started. Do you realize what a massive pain in the butt you are, Padalecki?”

“And what about you? You brought your lady friend to _our_ spot too, didn’t you?”

“Oh please, you really expected me to turn up alone like the pathetic, lonely divorcee I am, when I thought you were coming with your new beau?” Jensen pouts like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

There is silence for a few seconds, maybe a few years. Jared wouldn’t know, he’s too busy trying to regulate his wheezing, which he hopes Jensen hasn’t noticed.

“I almost didn’t come, you know. I struggled with it. Made bookings, canceled bookings, made ‘em again, canceled ‘em again. And then showed up anyway.”

Jared thought he’d heard a chopper earlier that night; maybe that’d been Jensen flying in.

“What did you tell Emily?”

“Stopover en route to Malaysia.”

He scoffs. “Where is she?”

“She left at noon. Seeing you – didn’t take her long to figure out why I’d wanted to come here. She’s a smart woman, and turns out she isn’t that into me after all. But she was pissed.”

As she should be, but Jared doesn’t say that out loud.

“So how exactly did you… pay for all this?”

“Man, you’re like a dog with a bone, for fuck’s sake.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend…”

“Yes you did, Jensen. You’ve been meaning to offend and _hurt_ , ever since… ever since I cheated on you. And you have all the right in the world too. I deserve it.”

“Jared, I don’t…”

“But for the last time,” this time Jared is the one to ignore Jensen’s interjection completely. “No I did not get myself a new sugar daddy, thank you very much. I saved up, I planned ahead, I knew exactly what I wanted to do, and I made it happen.”

“And what _did_ you want to do, exactly?”

“…”

“Why are you here? Alone? Out of the blue? It’s not a holiday, no special occasion that I know of.”

Jensen walks back towards him once more, and this time it makes Jared anxious. The man’s getting closer to something Jared would rather he never find out. A blatant curiosity fills up his lined and stubbled face. His eyes narrow into little slits that Jared has trouble looking into, so he looks away.

“Jared…” Jensen stands barely a foot away. “I told you my side of things. Don’t I deserve the same courtesy?”

Jared looks up, grimacing through a conflicting mix of emotions – anger, frustration, guilt, hope, love, and longing…

“Maybe… I just missed you.”

Jensen’s eyes shimmer despite the dim lights. It encourages Jared to keep going.

“It was… would have been our… our five-year wedding anniversary in July. That’s the day I-I decided to come here, revisit some of the happiest times of my life before…”

He stops himself in time, licks his lips and exhales. Then quickly covers up with a short laugh. “It was an impulse purchase, okay? They were offering these great discounts for a limited time, I… I just wanted to take advantage of them before they went away.”

And there it is again – Jared’s deceit, in stark contrast to Jensen’s straightforwardness. It’s a common misconception that folks who battle the darkness are easy to spot because of their symptoms. Fact is, many of them are masters at the art of deception. They’re imposters, hiding their pain in plain sight, under the mask of forced smiles, sarcastic jibes, and other practiced routines so no one ever sees how they’re splintering inside, little by little, every minute.

Silence descends once more, so thick you couldn’t cut it with a broadsword.

“I miss you too, you know.”

Jared gulps hard and closes his eyes. He feels… relieved. Not absolved, just relieved. At least he can die in peace.

“Why didn’t you try to get me back?”

Jared smirks but sadly, “You know I did, Jensen.”

He had groveled and begged and pleaded. He had even thrown all self-respect aside and refused to leave the loft. In response, Jensen had left instead to go stay with his sister, Madison, in the Upper East Side.

He’d left emails and voicemails and handwritten cards. He’d recruited Madison even – anything just to get Jensen to sit down with him for a few minutes and talk. But nothing made Jensen budge. They had a couple of showdowns at the lawyer’s office. By that time, the bitterness had seeped through the very bones of their doomed relationship. They just didn’t stand a chance.

Jensen didn’t show up to court for the final hearing. It was supposed to be all ‘amicable’ anyway. Eventually, Jared stopped fighting the inevitable. Soon after signing the papers, he moved out of NY and back to his hometown of Austin.

“Why didn’t you stay? Why didn’t you try again?”

“Because you were right. Some things you can never do over. I didn’t deserve to have you anymore.”

“And what about me? What did I do to deserve losing you?”

Jared still can’t believe what he’s hearing. This entire conversation has been so surreal. For a minute he wonders if he really did jump at the gorge, and if maybe this was his own little carve-out in heaven. Like on that show with the brothers who hunt monsters. It’d be totally understandable that his heaven is set right here at the Chedi Andermatt.

“Why? Why the change of heart?”

Jensen smiles at last. He’s standing barely inches away from Jared now, towering over him in a way that doesn’t feel daunting but rather more… comforting than anything else.

“The heart’s never changed. It’s still where it’s been since the first day I met you, Jared. I just stopped listening to it for a while. But seeing you here, it’s like my heart’s kicked back to life again. And I can’t shut it up anymore. I’m going to kiss you now.”

Jared freezes. The abrupt segue (sort of) would’ve shocked him right out of his shoes, if he wasn’t so stunned (and barefoot) already. And when he doesn’t resist, Jensen bows his head and presses his lips against Jared’s mouth. Jared’s eyes fall close as he lifts his face up and into the kiss.

“This isn’t real. It isn’t real, is it?”

Jensen holds his face in both hands, stroking his hair and the sides of his jaw ever so gently.

“It’s as real as you want it to be, Jared. God, I’ve missed you so much…” the older man whispers, his voice shaking with raw emotion that makes Jared start to hope once more.

“Please don’t let this be a dream…” he whispers, before tentatively bringing his hands up to clutch at Jensen’s shoulders, his forearms, his neck, his face. Make sure he’s really there.

The world seems to suddenly take on the color it’s been blanched of for decades. It’s almost like a supersized dose of serotonin tearing through the darkness in his brain, blowing it to smithereens. He feels lightheaded, in the best way possible.

The men pour all their passion and desperation and want for each other into each other’s mouths. And then things get frantic.

“Jensen…”

“Right here, Jared, right here.”

Jared struggles to breathe as Jensen nibbles at his earlobe, leaving a trail of saliva down his jawline to the pulse point at the base of his throat.

“Oh, God, yes,” Jared pants. “Jensen, make me believe. Please…”

“How?”

“Fuck me. Right now.”

Jensen doesn’t have to be asked twice. He drags Jared up to his feet and without letting go of his mouth leads them both to the bedroom. The king-sized bed stands ready to host their long overdue reunion. In their rush, they don’t even bother with protection or clothes, unzipping their pants and pushing them down just enough for Jensen to enter Jared from behind. It takes a while because Jared is really tight, and the lotion they use in lieu of lubricant isn’t ideal.

“We should stop, I’m hurting you.”

“No! Don’t you dare,” Jared urges his lover on. “Please I need this…”

The pain he feels is more than welcome. It is in fact exactly what he needs to separate fantasy from reality. It’s what makes him finally believe. And once Jensen is finally, firmly embedded all the way to the root inside of him, Jared lets himself scream. It’s a scream full of indescribable happiness just as much as it is of physical discomfort.

Jensen groans in kind at the tightness engulfing him. “God, really? You didn’t… not with anyone in all this time?”

“Just shut up and move!”

And Jensen obeys. He pulls Jared up to his knees and elbows, and pours a copious amount of lotion at their point of joining. Then he starts to move, pounding in and out of the snug channel in a series of thrusts that hold nothing back and give Jared exactly what he needs. It doesn’t last longer than a few minutes, obviously. And they find release together, Jared coming all over the pillow under his hips, while Jensen climaxes inside Jared.

“That real enough for you, baby?”

“Say that again.”

Jensen smirks, and turns Jared over so they can look right into each other’s eyes when he says it.

“Baby.”

Jared watches in wonder as the other man’s body quakes and heaves just as hard as his own. He buries his face in Jensen’s neck and digs his nails into the other man’s shoulder blades with all his might. Finally, something that’s starting to feel real at last.

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

They spend the rest of the night making up for lost time.

First order of business: cuddle up on the couch and order room service. Jared chooses the food, and Jensen chooses the wine like they used to. They catch each other up on work, their dogs who now live with Madison, the Ackles clan in general. It’s exactly the type of small talk Jared needs to process the events of this past weekend.

After two days and two nights, where he’s ended up is so far, far away from where he started. He doesn’t bring it up though, doesn’t give voice to his continued sense of disbelief unless he jinxes it somehow. Tear this version of reality down with the wrecking ball of his words.

“So you finally got to work with the great Gathy himself, good on you.” Jared is genuinely happy for Jensen, if a bit envious. Jensen has always looked up to Gathy like Jared used to look up to JDM.

Jensen shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “What about you? Did you go back to school like you planned to?”

Jared has his head resting back on Jensen’s sternum, while the older man has his arms wrapped up around him from behind. It’s a good position because it means Jensen can’t see the anxiousness stirring up in Jared’s eyes. So he can just lie and say whatever.

All his plans – professional or otherwise – fell to the wayside after the divorce. His only concern for the first few months was to hold on to his routine of exercise and work – ways to keep himself busy and fight the darkness _au naturel_. But in absence of any real motivations, his resolve crumbled. Slowly at first, and then all at once, until he just couldn’t do it anymore.

Until his body refused to get out of bed in the morning, and stayed that way until three in the afternoon. Until, in order to function, to keep his new job and a roof over his head, he was forced to go back to the meds.

It’s like a raincloud trapped inside his head, growing, pushing everything else to the periphery. The world and all its contents get increasingly hazier, dimmer and duller somehow. Even the deliberate slice of a razor against his throat stings no more than a pinprick. That’s the best way Jared can think of to describe what being on the pills felt like.

He tried, really he did… dragged himself around through a drug-induced subsistence that couldn’t possibly be called ‘life’. His senses, his mental faculties, whatever little creativity he could claim to have – all numbed by the effects of Zoloft and Clonopin and what-not under the guise of keeping the darkness at bay. Folks at his new workplace were probably too polite to say anything, were probably still giving the ‘new guy’ a little rope. But Jared could tell just by looking at the quality of his own work that he was starting to suck. Really, really hard.

In a burst of momentary lucidity, he decided to kick the meds again. His mind cleared, but the darkness returned. The frequency of the anxiety attacks increased. The powerful urges to sequester himself away from everything alive resurfaced. And the will to fight it all quickly waned. Because really, what kind of living is this? Whatever the fuck is the point?

So no, going back to school hasn’t exactly been high on his list of priorities lately. But Jared doesn’t know how to explain any of it to Jensen.

“It’s still on the table. I’ve looked at a few programs,” then pretends to think about the taste of wine in his mouth. “So hey, I’m getting a little cinnamon in the aftertaste, does that sound right?”

Jensen takes off on a long ramble about wines, and Jared breathes a furtive sigh of relief. He loses himself in the addictive lilt of Jensen’s voice, eyes drooping, ready to fall asleep in the man’s arms. Until the said man suddenly stops talking and kisses Jared on his left temple.

“Well, I think we’ve had enough small talk for the night, scintillating as it’s been.”

Jensen slowly slides out from behind Jared and stands up. He puts his hands around his hips and stretches his back like an old man. He looks absolutely endearing.

“Do you think you’re ready to head back to bed now, baby?”

Jared tilts his head and smiles. “Only if you plan to make love to me again.”

And Jensen does.

They lose all their clothes for this round, and rediscover each other’s bodies with all the lights on. Jensen takes his time this time to very gently and thoroughly open Jared before entering him. There is a lot of whimpering and grunting and cursing, both from him and Jensen. There are also soft, pleasure-filled moans, and giggles and outright laughter, promises and apologies and words that soothe like balm on wounds festering for years.

He really could die happy now. In fact that’s the last thought on his mind, before Jared sinks into a dead man’s sleep.

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Swiss German or French words (they use either interchangeably I swear!): 
> 
> Guete morge - Good morning  
> Herr - Mister  
> Entschuldigung sie - Excuse me  
> Könne sie dütsch reede? - Can you speak German?  
> “Y at-il un problème, officier? - Is there a problem, officer?


	5. Who else but me is ever going to read these letters?

  

**October 4, 2016**

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

They sleep in the next morning, lie in bed till noon, order brunch on the phone, and basically stay wrapped up in and around each other, refusing to part.

Jared tries to draw the line on bathroom trips. But Jensen can be a total brat when he wants to be. It’s almost like he doesn’t want to leave Jared alone for a minute, like maybe he’s afraid this is all just a dream or a hallucination as well.

Osric brings in their room service again. Jared opens the door and blushes. It seems he’s always shirtless whenever the kid comes around. But Osric doesn’t seem to notice, or knows better than to react to it.

“Good morning, Herr Padalecki!” He greets warmly. Then he turns to Jensen, sprawled across the bed also in just his pajama pants, and continues just as smoothly, “…and Herr Ackles!”

“Can you set this out on the balcony, please?”

“With pleasure, sir. Good day to brunch in the sun. Might even be the last before winter comes!”

Jensen tips him generously and winks at him as he leaves, which makes Jared raise his eyebrows.

“What was that about?”

“Oh nothing, he’s the one who let me in here yesterday, so…”

“Of course he did,” Jared rolls his eyes. He dons a thick pullover over his track pants, before walking out the French balcony doors. “Come on out here, but get your jacket.”

It’s a little chilly, but the sun is bright and benevolent to their particular part of the terrace. Jensen plays one of his playlists on the speaker deck, starting with a Jack Johnson song. It makes Jared shake his head in fond amusement.

“I see your obsession with situational music is still going strong.”

In response, Jensen just sings along enthusiastically. “Maybe we can sleep in… Make you banana pancakes… Pretend like it's the weekend now!”

“Dork.”

Jensen blows him a kiss, “Nag.”

Jared chuckles and stretches one leg to poke at Jensen’s thigh. The older man catches his foot and lifts it up to his lap instead, tickling and tweaking his toes, making Jared laugh some more.

“So what do you want to do today? Some ice skating, maybe?”

Jensen pouts. “I still suck at it, and no in this case practice does _not_ make perfect.”

Jared laughs, “Skiing then. We are at a ski resort after all.”

“Skiing is a loner’s sport.”

Jared very slowly enunciates, “We’ll be skiing _together_.”

But Jensen waves him off. “What else can we do as a couple, the two of us?”

“Besides what we’ve been doing all night, you mean?”

“Hmm, I think you’re on to something there,” Jensen licks his lips and makes it lascivious on purpose. “Let’s just stay in and chill, how does that sound?”

It sounds fantastic. They bask in the sunshine and enjoy the lovely spread of food, wondering what the hotel’s secret to such heavenly coffee could be.

It’s a perfect day. Now all Jared has to do is believe it is real.

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

To be fair, it’s not just the realness that’s in question… it’s also the permanence. Mainly the permanence. The fragility of their new arrangement, built on a bedrock of secrets Jared’s been keeping for so many years… how can this possibly last?

He watches Jensen surreptitiously from the corner of his eye. What he’s looking for, he isn’t sure. Maybe signs of deceit (like this is an elaborate, long-drawn plot for revenge), or of distrust (though he wouldn’t blame Jensen for feeling that way), or the inevitable coming of Jensen to his senses. He occasionally gets caught looking too, often enough for anyone else to get suspicious. But the architect just grins back and doesn’t make a big deal of it.

The next time Jared tries to sneak in a glance, he thinks he’s safe because they’ve both donned their sunglasses. They’re still relaxing in their lounge chairs, and Jensen is reading something on his iPad while Jared is trying – and failing – to get past page twelve of his book. It’s supposed to be a fast-paced thriller for God’s sake.

“Jared.”

He jumps. “Yes, Jensen?”

“Was there something you wanted to say to me?”

The man is yet to look up from his tablet. Jared feels the stirrings again, heart palpitations rising by one extra beat per second.

They’ve broken down a lot of walls since last night – expressed their true feelings, put their egos and heartbreaks aside, and admitted they never really wanted the divorce. But there is still one big barrier that stands between them. Actually, make that two.

Who’d want to spend their life with a mentally sick person? And who’d want to be married to someone who threatened bloody suicide every time they had a little domestic?

In his mind’s eye, he can vividly picture how the conversation would go if he did tell Jensen of his true motives to fly to Switzerland.

 

_“You came here to end your life? Because of ME?”_

_“No, not because of you. Jensen please understand, this isn’t that simple…”_

_“How did you expect me to react, man? What, should I be flattered? Should I feel guilty? That’s it – that’s what you wanted, isn’t it? You wanted me to live with the fucking guilt for ever. You wanted to make me suffer for divorcing your sorry, two-bit whore ass, didn’t you?!?”_

 

“Jared? You okay, babe?” Jensen takes his shades off and puts a hand on the nearest knee he can reach.

“You can tell me, whatever it is, you know that right?”

Jared swallows hard. This is his opportunity to come clean. But then again… maybe he doesn’t need to? Look what happened the last time he came clean!

Besides, it isn’t going to be a problem anymore. Things are looking up for Jared again. He’s confident that with Jensen by his side, he can wrestle the dark beast back in its cage. Hell, he’s done it many, many times before, some before he even knew Jensen existed.

Jared exhales quietly and manages to pull the corners of his mouth apart into what he hopes is not an ugly grimace.

“I’m just… still trying to convince myself this is real, you know?”

Jensen chews at his lower lip until he finds the words to speak. “Jared, I don’t know if this will make a difference but… I _have_ forgiven you. It took me some time, but I promise I have let it go and am ready for a fresh start. A _restart_. Can you say the same for yourself?”

Can Jared forgive himself? Probably not. Can Jared let it all go? Most definitely not. The darkness comes with a side of elephantine memories you see. But a fresh start sounds good, like something Jared could, as they say, fake it until he makes it. Just like the last time.

“A restart, yes, I’d like that very much.”

Jensen beams at him, that dazzling smile he’s missed so much. “Thank you, babe.”

He moves in closer, as does Jared, and they kiss. In that moment, Jared makes up his mind. He can’t lose this again. He just can’t go back to the darkness again.

Fate, destiny, whatever the heck you call it, has given them a second chance to re-build their life together. But to be able to do that, Jared needs to lose the baggage, including the incriminating evidence that’s sitting on his laptop, and one hard copy in the drawer.

He needs to get rid of the suicide note immediately.

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

Jared walks back inside on the pretense of getting something to drink. He pours a glass of iced water down his throat and stares at the modish desk in the living area.

He can see Jensen through the full-length glass doors. The blond is facing the suite, his head thrown back against his chair, feet up on an ottoman before him. He looks like he’s dozing but with his shades there’s no way to be sure. Jared strolls over to the table as casually as he can, and curses under his breath. He’s in even more direct view of Jensen at this spot.

But it’s not like the man could see precisely what Jared is doing from the distance, right? He puts his drink down on a coaster. Then as quietly as he can manage, bends forward to slide open the drawer…

“Hey, I was thinking…”

Jared jumps and quickly steps back. How the hell did Jensen get indoors so quickly?

“Maybe we should go out after all,” Jensen says, pushing his shades up on his head. “There’s some kind of festival going on in the village that...” he pauses when he gets close enough. “You all right?”

“Yeah, o-of course. What’s this festival about?” Jared asks, even though he already knows.

Jensen looks back down at his tablet. “It’s the, uh, Désalpe Wassen Alpine festival. Meaning descent from the mountain pastures, it’s literally celebrating the time of the cows coming home!”

He chuckles, clearly amused by the concept, and continues. “Basically it’s decorated animals, folk music and food, three of your favorite things, baby. You game?”

Yeah, why not. Actually it sounds like a great idea.

“Totally! I just need to take a shower first,” Jared moves towards the bathroom. “Hey, why don’t you go grab a change of clothes from your suite in the meantime?”

Jensen smirks. “And here I thought you were about to invite me to join you in there.”

“Oh,” Jared blushes coyly. “You’re welcome to, if we have the time?”

Jensen walks over and wraps his arms around the artist’s slender neck. “I think we can make time for a nice, hot bath. Care to join me, Herr Padalecki?”

Jared shivers, licking at Jensen’s plump red lips eagerly. “There’s nothing I want more, Herr Ackles.”

Jensen walks him backwards and into the bathroom. Jared watches the distance from the study desk grow in spades, as does his uneasiness. What are the chances Jensen would look inside it or even go to the desk anyway? He never brings work to a vacation, at least never did before.

Jared just needs to be patient. He’ll get his opportunity soon enough.

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

The bath tub is sprawling and perfect for two six-feet-plus men like themselves. Jensen sits spooned around the younger man and takes his own sweet time shampooing his hair.

“It’s so much longer…”

“Mm-hmm,” Jared replies noncommittally. He doesn’t tell Jensen it’s because in the past few years he’d basically stopped caring about his appearance.

“I like it like this.”

“Thank you,” Jared doesn’t quite believe it. He just closes his eyes and concentrates on Jensen’s magical fingers massaging his scalp.

“But you’ve lost too much weight, baby.”

He narrows his eyes. “Oh, so we are going there, really?”

“Why not? You can tell me what you think too. Come on, I want to know.”

Jensen eggs him on until Jared cracks. “Fine. I don’t like this wilderness on your chin that you’re passing for a beard.”

“Excuse me??”

“You asked!”

“All right, fine, I’ll get rid of it.” Jensen tugs at his hair in retaliation. It doesn’t hurt, but Jared whines in protest anyway.

“Lean forward, on your knees.”

Jared pants a little but doesn’t hesitate. He gets up on his knees and bends forward, pushing his ass up and out of the water. He grips the right side of the bathtub with both hands to balance himself, quivering in anticipation as Jensen squeezes a large dollop of shower gel into his hands.

A moment later, he feels the cool liquid drip into the crevice of his butt, followed by two fingers that spread it up and down and around his little orifice.

“I missed this, I missed you so much,” Jensen whispers, and Jared just whimpers in response.

With one hand Jensen grips his narrow waist to hold him in place. With the other, he lovingly lathers Jared’s hole, pushing first two fingers, then three, in and out, until Jared is losing his mind. He undulates back and forth to meet Jensen’s fingers, encouraging them to find that elusive spot inside. And indeed Jensen finds it and scratches at it with his short, clean nails, lighting Jared up from the inside out like the night sky on freaking Fourth of July. Jared knocks his forehead against the rim of the bath tub and mewls softly, hanging on for dear life.

After a while, Jensen replaces his digits with something else, something hot and wet and slippery, and Jared moans the loudest he has in a long time. This has always been a pet kink of his. He remembers how Jensen would spend _hours_ indulging Jared, rimming him out, holding him at the brink of pleasure perpetually until the younger man couldn’t remember his name.

Jensen takes it slow, and leisurely, like they have all the time in the world. Jared rests his elbows on the porcelain edge and arches his back as much as he can to feel more of Jensen’s tongue and fingers and lips and teeth at the very throbbing core of his being. He loses track of the minutes or hours (who knows), until his body gives in and comes untouched. His spine spasms near violently from the strain of such insurmountable pleasure… pleasure he once took for granted but hasn’t felt it in many, many years.

“Shhh…” Jensen coos, caressing the younger man’s back in long strokes to calm him down.

“God you’re so stunning like this, when you –”

“When I’m what – prostrating myself, exposed, vulnerable?”

Jensen doesn’t respond right away. Instead he pulls Jared back until he’s resting against the older man’s chest again. “When you trust me to take care of you so completely.”

Jared sighs and lets himself be drawn into a reconciliatory kiss. He watches mutely as Jensen works himself up to a quick release with his own hand. He feels bad for his selfishness, but the older man strokes his hair reassuringly.

“Don’t fret, sweetheart. Time to hit the shower now, huh?” Jensen squints at the water rendered unfit to bathe in. They snigger and drain the tub before transitioning to the shower stall.

“Ugh, on second thought,” Jensen grumbles later, as he rinses the shampoo out of his eyes. “I really should have gotten some fresh clothes before jumping in here.”

“Told you so!”

Jensen steps out of the stall and dries himself. “Take your time, babe. I’ll be right back. Here before you know it.”

Jared nods, hopefully not too soon though. He watches as Jensen hurriedly pulls on his clothes and shoes from last night, then scrambles out the door towards the Furka suite.

Jared turns the water off and waits, listens for a few seconds. Once he’s sure he’s alone, he jumps out of the stall as well. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he takes a smaller one to dry himself as quickly as he can. He doesn’t want to explain drip marks on the natural stone floor when Jensen returns. Foregoing his wardrobe, he makes a beeline to the desk first.

He takes a deep breath – and opens the top drawer. He finds his passport, his phone, his pills, his wallet and his wedding band. He even finds the original key card he left here two nights ago. But no letter.

He feels around the drawer, pulls it all the way out then back in again. It’s not there.

_Breathe. Think._

Maybe he put it in another drawer – maybe the one below it. Or maybe the big one on the left side. He searches both and comes up empty. There are no more drawers. His mind sure has been having trouble keeping things straight of late… maybe he put it someplace else?

He spins around and counts nine other storage spaces in the entire suite. Without wasting time, he starts rummaging through each one of them, his panic growing with every space that turns up empty and every second that he’s still letter-less.

“No, no, no…” he checks the bedside tables, under the pillows, under the mattress, under the bed.

“Damn it!” he roars, collapsing to the floor on his knees.

The only explanation is that someone discovered it. Someone found his letter and removed it. Who could it be? Maybe the cleaners? But why would they remove a personal item from inside a fucking drawer? They didn’t take the passport and the ring worth thousands of dollars but took the letter? Why? To what end?

“Osric!”

But why would he… is the little runt taking an unnatural interest in Jared for some reason? Or Jensen? Is that why he was so helpful to Jensen yesterday? Nah, Jared frowns and stands up to pace. That makes no sense at all. Besides, the kid had no excuse to be anywhere near the desk. Jared had been watching him the entire time he was here earlier.

He pulls at his hair and stops pacing. Maybe he’s thinking about it the wrong way. “Start with where you saw it last, and when.”

The last time was… yesterday morning when he shoved everything including the letter into the drawer and went looking for Jensen. He hasn’t seen it since. Which means sometime between yesterday morning and yesterday night someone came into his suite behind his back and…

It can’t be. No. It has to be here somewhere else.

Jared tightens the towel around his waist and checks the drawers again, just in case. His duffel bag, the wine cabinet, the minibar, behind the plasma screen, in his jacket pockets, in his shoes, the drawers again. He starts to hyperventilate because as unthinkable as it is, there is only one explanation.

The front door swings open and Jensen walks back in, dragging his bags behind him.

“Sorry it took longer than expected. I figured I’ll just lug everything over so I don’t have to…” he stops when he catches sight of Jared in the middle of the living room.

Jensen has clearly been running, because he’s panting just as hard as Jared. He looks confused at first, his eyes roving over Jared’s still-dripping body, then around the disarrayed suite. It doesn’t seem to take him long to size things up. And as soon as the confusion is gone, an unreadable expression descends to take its place.

Jensen drops his bags, and pulls a folded piece of hotel stationary from the back-pocket of his jeans, the one he’s been wearing since last night.

“Looking for this?”

Jared is petrified in his spot.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about this, Jared.”

“I-I can explain…”

No, he really can’t. He’s gone on and done it again.

Messed up the one good thing in his life, _again_. His heart is racing, his lungs are making that infuriating noise again, his ears are ringing like they do when he’s getting a migraine, and his brain is practically shutting down under the weight of all his despair and disappointment. And all he can think of right now is…

“D-David Hume…”

“Who? The philosopher?”

“He-he wrote that in terms of our o-obligations to society, if our conditions are sufficiently dire that we…we may be more of a burden than a benefit to society…”

“Jared…”

“…then i-i-it’s not just morally permissible but also morally praiseworthy to… the… the Stoics agreed too… they said the value of life–”

“Screw the Stoics.”

His body can’t keep up, and his head starts to spin until he throws a flailing arm behind to steady himself against the wretched alpine desk.

The next thing he sees is Jensen charging towards him in long strides. Instinctively his left arm comes up over his face to defend himself. Because why wouldn’t Jensen be angry, and why wouldn’t he lash out physically? Why shouldn’t he?

He takes a step back reflexively, stupid self-preservation, and closes his eyes waiting for the first blow to land. It never does.

“Jared, hey… hey, look at me. Open your eyes! Please baby, it’s okay. It’s okay…”

It takes time and effort for Jared to do as he’s asked, and when he does he realizes Jensen is only trying to hold him, to put a hand around the nape of his neck, not to hit him at all. He doesn’t get it – is Jensen forgiving him, _again_?

“Breathe baby, you’re okay, shh, take a deep breath, come on…”

Jared tries to comply, but his entire fucking constitution is fighting him with everything it’s got. All his usual tricks to get it back under control are failing. The first sob of utter frustration racks his spine. He knows he’s supposed to suppress it and he tries, he must, but once again he fails and really can he do anything right ever?

“I-I… sorry, I’m sorry…”

His vision is hazy with hot moisture that feels strange on his face, and his wheezing is getting worse by the second. Another breathless sob escapes his mouth and this time he’s really pissed with himself.

“FUCK!” he tries to back away from the hands gripping him in place. And he’d succeed if not for the stupid piece of furniture still in the way. But the hands are warm and strong yet surprisingly gentle, even as they force Jared to sit down at the edge of the table.

“Shh, it’s okay, just let me help you please, just breathe… just breathe…”

Jensen tugs him forward and wraps his arms around Jared’s wiry frame, pressing his head deep against, and into, his own chest, holding him there. The creased sheet of paper must have dropped to the floor in his haste to reach Jared. It lies smack in the middle of the suite, in Jared’s line of sight, taunting him. Challenging him to come get it which he can’t, held captive as he is by Jensen’s arms.

“Breathe, Jared. In and out, that’s it. Come on, sweetheart, slowly, breathe…”

God, Jensen’s being so… so gentle, rocking him back and forth. Suddenly, breathing’s no longer the problem. The sobs break free now, loud and relentless, uninhibited, ugly, and ultimately cathartic. Sobs that Jared hasn’t set free in more years than he cares to count.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, J-Jensen… I’m so sorry…”

“Shh, I’m sorry too, God, shh…”

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

**The Letter**

   

> _To whosoever finds this note: Sorry it had to be you. There is no one else I could address it to._
> 
> _To the cops: I know what I’m doing. No one is to blame. I’ve given this a lot of thought. All my papers, last will and testament etc. are in my bank locker._
> 
> _To my ex-husband: Please believe me, none of this is on you, not one bit. Fact is, if it weren’t for you, I might have taken this step a long time ago._
> 
> _I’ve kept an important truth about myself from you: I’ve struggled with bouts of depression for a very long time. It started in middle school after Dad died. Chemical imbalances triggered by unresolved emotional trauma, apparently. Simply put, my brain sees the world through a pair of black lenses. Everything seems darker than it really is, or so they tell me. Positive turns to negative, negative even more so. Insults hide inside of compliments, kindness is a cover for something cruel, and all that._
> 
> _You noticed it too, very early on. You ribbed me about it, called me your own private raincloud once, remember? You’ve no idea how apt that description was. That’s when I realized if I wanted to keep you, I had to stop being all – myself. So I put an inverse filter between my brain and my mouth, flipped every word on its head, made it sound like what a normal guy would say. Basically I pretended to be the cheerful, fun-loving guy you could love, a cool confident cat you’d be proud of. I pretended I belonged in your world, by your side, but my reality couldn’t be farther from the truth._
> 
> _Time passed and I didn’t realize when I started believing my own lies. Our four years together, I was actually happy. Happy in love, happily married to the man of my dreams. I was on meds when I met you, but managed to wean myself off them before we got married. You’ve no idea how incredible it felt to finally be free of those tiny white devils. Maybe I got complacent, felt invincible even, like I could get away with anything. Hubris led to my downfall, and I lost you. Not making excuses, there can be none for what I did. I just need you to know how deeply sorry I am for what I put you through. You deserved so much better, and I let you down. For that, I will never forgive myself._
> 
> _Please don’t pity me. Please don’t entertain any self-doubts or guilt of any kind. Of course you still would, you’re just that kind of guy. Just know that while the words ‘sound of mind’ may not hold up in court, this is MY choice to make. I know there‘s no going back, but there is no moving forward either. Believe me, I’ve been trying. But I’m so tired, and I just don’t want to anymore. Sleepwalking through this world, propped up on a cocktail of drugs or some other artificial crutch to get through the day – hating every minute of it – it’s so unnecessary. It’s a stupid Sisyphean effort, wasted on a deadweight that’s of no real use to anyone, anymore._
> 
> _Sorry for off-loading all this on you like this. Please consider it my dying wish – letting me have the last word, LOL. Actually scratch that, my last wish is for you to be happy. Please do that for me, Jensen. I love you, I always will._
> 
> _Thanks for reading._
> 
> _Jared Tristan Padalecki_  

 

*****|***|***|*****

 


	6. Any port in a storm, if we sail together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More and longer flashbacks in here. Last chapter! Do see notes at the end.

  

 

**October 5, 2016**

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

When Jared finally falls asleep, Jensen curls up around him and presses his lips into the back of his boy’s head.

He tries not to shudder too hard. His emotions are still wired, storming in circles inside his head round and round like it’s the fucking Hadron collider. He can’t believe how close he came to losing Jared for good. Someone up there is definitely watching over them. Because yeah, there was no real reason for Jensen to be roaming the halls last night, except that if he’d stayed in the suite, Emily would have wanted to… do things that he wasn’t in the mood for. Not here, not at _their_ spot.

And there really was no reason for Jensen to have stopped exactly in front of Jared’s elevator on God-knows-which floor, or why the elevator opened in the first place, to make him come face-to-face with Jared. Just one big, unexplainably well-orchestrated… coincidence.

Yes he’d flown all the way to Lucerne to catch a glimpse of his ex-husband (and his new boyfriend). But he’d wanted to be a little more covert about it, he hadn’t meant to actually run into him (or his new boyfriend). And he most definitely hadn’t planned on intercepting Jared in the middle of the night, just before he intended to go jump into a deadly gorge three miles away. Jensen has never been particularly religious, but this weekend has made sure he’ll be returning home a changed man. A believing man.

His eyes water again and his arms tighten around Jared another smidgen, careful not to wake his lover by mistake.

Through the windows, he watches as the sun starts to slowly slither down the back of the majestic Gemsstock. God knows how he’s longed for this day… for Jared to be back in his arms, for things to go back to the way they were during the happiest time of his life. These last two years and eight months have been hard on him. But he had no idea that Jared was having it so, so much worse.

The letter he found last evening had unnerved him to his core.

He didn’t even know why he was perching there atop the study desk in the first place, when there were so many more comfortable places to plonk himself in the suite. He didn’t know what sixth sense or cosmic intuition whispered in his ears and fueled his curiosity until he started flinging open drawers he had no business looking into.

He sure as hell didn’t know how he managed to keep the contents of his stomach down after reaching the end of the letter.

Maybe it was the relief that comes with finally _understanding_ – suddenly a lot of things started to make sense. Jared’s unexplained mood swings, his lack of confidence in his work even though he was one of the most gifted artists Jensen had ever known, his reluctance to talk about his childhood, his strictly regimented routine that Jensen now realizes was what kept him off his meds…

Or maybe it was the calm that comes with validation – Jensen was right to _not_ move on. It was just as well that he lingered in the past, hung on to that loft like a damn masochist, and listened to his heart when it told him he should fly to Europe to stalk, no, spy, um… check on Jared.

But mostly it was just outright panic and the break-neck speed at which he dashed out of the suite and to the concierge desk, screaming for his friend at the top of his lungs...

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

_“Misha! MISHA!!”_

_Guests and staff alike – everyone turns around to gawk at the raving lunatic in the middle of the lobby. He doesn’t care, he needs help now in finding Jared before it is too late. Assuming it isn’t already…_

_“Sir, he’s on his way,” a nameless, faceless someone assures him, “we’ve paged him for you. Please calm down…”_

_Easier said than done. What else can he do? “Security… call security, and the cops RIGHT NOW!!!”_

_They herd him into an office in the back to keep the public spectacle to a minimum. It takes a few minutes but feels like decades before Jensen gets the head of hotel security to – a) believe him, and b) fucking do something about it._

_“Did you try calling Herr Padalecki’s cell?”_

_“I just told you, he left his phone up in his room. Has someone called the cops yet?”_

_“They’re on their way. My men are also searching the premises as we speak. Maybe we’ll find him simply relaxing in the spa…”_

_Jensen paces back and forth, too disgusted with the slow oaf to acknowledge his dumb-ass statement. “Where the hell is Collins?”_

_“I’m here,” Misha pants as he runs into the office. Jensen sees him and his eyes water immediately._

_“Misha – I don’t know what to do…”_

_“When did you see him last?”_

_Just like Misha to get right to the point, and Jensen couldn’t be more grateful. He pulls himself together and thinks. “About nine AM, breakfast lounge. We had an argument of sorts, and h-he walked out.”_

_They both look at their watches at once – it is five PM now. Jared’s been missing for eight hours. Jensen feels like his heart is about to implode, his knees start to buckle and the floor rises steadily to meet his dimming eyes. A pair of arms stop his descent and pull him up straight, shaking him furiously until his vision clears again._

_“You must compose yourself, Herr Ackles.” Misha’s face is completely expressionless. Jensen thinks he sees accusation in the striking blue eyes – like he’s the one to blame and rightly so._

_“This is not the time,” he instructs again, and this time Jensen listens. He nods and taps at Misha’s hand to make him let go._

_“Now think and tell me, where would he go?”_

_“I…I don’t…”_

_“You know him better than anyone. Please try, so we can direct the police accordingly.”_

_Jensen blinks and takes in a deep, shuddering breath. “Maybe the mountains, he’s always been drawn to them. Not sure, God, I don’t know…”_

_“That’s good, that’s a start,” Misha is interrupted when the oaf opens the door to let someone in._

_“Die Polizei ist hier.”_

_Three cops walk in – two Viking-sized men and a statuesque, redheaded woman. Jensen repeats all the information again as quickly as he can. Misha prints more copies of Jared’s photo and passes them around (Jensen had provided a couple earlier, still has a whole library on his phone.) Minutes later, search patrols are organized and dispatched in all directions across the valley to hunt for the missing tourist._

_“I can’t just sit here,” Jensen says, soon after they leave. “I need to be out there looking for him.”_

_“You may be right about the mountains. He went skiing both days he’s been here,” Misha speculates. “We’ll take my car.”_

_They stride out to the lobby where it’s back to business as usual. Of course, they’re keeping everything hush hush to minimize any ‘reputational damage’ to the hotel. Sebastian is behind the concierge desk again, clearly just back from a smoke break._

_“Ist alles in Ordnung, Herr Collins?”_

_“Alles ist gut, Herr Roché. Please go back to your post,” Misha dismisses him, refusing to appease his curiosity._

_He hurriedly leads Jensen into the parking lot where they get into his blue Renault SUV. Soon they are racing towards the Gemsstock peak approximately half an hour away by road._

_The blond man scours the landscape left and right desperately, wishing he’d spot Jared somewhere on the side of the road so they could hit the brakes and just scoop him up. He cannot believe this is happening._

_In all the time they were apart, somewhere deep inside, Jensen always harbored the hope they’d get back together someday. Like the cocky, arrogant bastard he was, Jensen thought he was the one calling the shots. And that one day, when his big damn ego had had its fill of… whatever retribution it thought Jared’s infidelity deserved, all he’d have to do is make a call, and Jared would drop everything and come running right back to him. He never, ever imagined Jared might be the one to slam that door close on him forever. In the worst way possible._

_He doesn’t care about Jared’s secrets, he doesn’t find Jared’s medical condition abhorrent as the younger man apparently thinks he would (or should). He no longer cares about what happened with JDM. He just wants his husband back; back in his life, back in his arms where he can keep him safe and loved and never, ever let him go._

_Seconds drag like centuries while Jensen struggles to calm his racing heart. He wonders if this is what it feels like to have a panic attack. He’s starting to recall a memory, once when Jared had a short hyperventilating episode. It didn’t last long but it seemed painful... how Jared had silently counted down his breaths until he got them under control. How he’d acted like it was no big deal afterwards…_

_“You know, when Amelia died,” Misha breaks Jensen out of his spiraling thoughts. “I felt it. We were thousands of miles apart and still… I think, I_ knew _. I knew the moment it happened.”_

_“I’m so sorry, buddy,” Jensen rasps, eyes burning with intense empathy. But he understands what his widowed friend is trying to tell him. He blocks out all external stimuli and focuses on the sound of that gut instinct that’s served him so well in the past…_

_A moment later, he feels his elevated heartbeat start to recede._

_“He’s not in the mountains...”_

_“Are you sure?”_

_“He’s on foot. He wasn’t carrying anything when he left. His wallet, phone, everything is still up in his suite. Couldn’t have made it this far without those things, could he? He had his running shoes on. He just… ran out the doors and… kept running…”_

_Misha slows down and pulls to the side of the highway. The architect squints, reaching for the vague recollections from trips long ago that hold the answer he’s looking for._

_“The hiking trails! He used to love running those trails. Especially the one that goes north towards… oh my God.”_

_Misha is already dialing the number of the police officer in charge, putting it on speaker, and rattling off in rapid French._

_“A patrol car is already in the area,” Misha translates for him, “they’re diverting it to the gorge now.”_

_“There’s a secluded spot at the last bend just before the road curves down to Devil’s bridge. It’s hidden behind, like a short hedge or something, and some granite rubble. I’d start there.”_

_Jensen remembers discovering that spot with Jared the first time they came here together. He recalls returning to it many more times, parking their rented convertible, stretching out with their legs on the dashboard, having a few beers and endless conversations in the sun._

_He remembers making love to Jared under the stars in that spot. And almost getting caught this one time, then laughing their heads off like a pair of carefree teenagers._

_Misha finishes his conversation with the police officer and hangs up. Then he quickly makes an illegal U-turn and guns it in the opposite direction. Fifteen minutes later, they are circling down the hill towards Schöllenen when Misha suddenly screeches to a full halt in the middle of the road._

_“What are you doing?”_

_“Down there,” Misha gestures towards something on his side of the car, and Jensen immediately cranes his neck to look._

_His heart thumps furiously at the scene unfolding a couple hundred meters below._

_He watches quietly as an officer coaxes the man he loves to let go of the wire separating him from the deepness of the ravine. He holds his breath as Jared rises to his full height and the officer takes a step back, visibly surprised at how tall he is. And he tries not to cry once Jared, stiffly but willingly, gets into the back of her car, away from danger._

_They remain unnoticed while the car drives off, though soon it’ll be heading up the same winding road that Misha’s car was illegally parked on. The cellphone rings again._

_“Monsieur Collins, Lieutenant Huffman a trouvé! Elle lui prend retour à l'hôtel. Il semble être bien.”_

_Misha turns towards Jensen, but this time doesn’t bother with precise translation. “You saved him.”_

_Jensen tiredly shakes his head. “No, my friend. I didn’t do anything. Jared made the decision to step away from the edge. He saved himself.”_

_Misha nodded. “He may not be out of the woods yet, but at least he chose to fight another day.”_

_“That’s right. All I have to do now, is give him a reason.”_

_“A reason?”_

_“To_ keep _fighting, to keep saving himself. And me, in the process.”_

_Jensen nods at his friend gratefully for everything he’s done for them tonight. Then he slumps back in his seat, and lets the tension drain from his body for what feels like the first time in centuries._

_“Take me back, Misha. I need to be there when he returns.”_

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

Jensen decides not to tell Jared his dramatic tale of the heart attack he nearly had after reading the letter. Maybe later, when they were on surer grounds as to the younger man’s state of mind. Right now, he needs to concentrate on getting Jared healthy again.

He needs to make those dark circles and the gauntness of Jared’s angular face go away. He wants to never feel those skeletal fingers tremble in his hands like they did last night. And then there were the eyes. He needs to see them come alive again, not squint warily at Jensen like he was just a figment of the artist’s imagination.

Jensen looks at the thin band of pale skin around his left ring finger again. He’d shown it earlier to Jared to convince him of the genuineness of his feelings. No, he wasn’t saying stuff just to talk a potential jumper off the ledge. Yes, he had in fact been wearing his wedding band right up until the flight over. He cringes remembering the short exchange he’d had with Emily, before she packed her bags and left for New York.

 

_“You know, I’ve seen you wear that ring for as long as I can remember. So when you took it off yesterday, I thought...”_

_“I’m so sorry.”_

_“Yeah, well, it’s not like I didn’t know what I was signing up for. You never made any promises. Serves me right to try and teach an old_ queen _new tricks…”_

_Jensen smirks at the crude but accurate analogy. “That’s derogatory, you know.”_

_“Sue me.”_

_“Are you going to be okay?”_

_“It’s a good question, Ackles. Except for one little problem.” Emily sighs at him, even sneers a little, while Jensen crosses his arms and waits for her to finish the sentence._

_“I’m not the one you should be asking that question.”_

 

She was right. Jared has not been okay in a very, very long time. But then neither has Jensen.

Defying all expectations, even his own, he had managed to forgive Jared a long time ago. But he just couldn’t get past his own heartbreak, you know? The pain of betrayal… it’s unlike anything else in the whole world. It makes you question your own worth, and the fidelity of all other relationships in your life. He thinks back to a conversation he had with his sister not long after Jared moved out.

 

_“So this guy was Jared’s first boss right out of college?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“And he supported Jared back when he was basically homeless, jobless, penniless, and had no one else in the world to lean on. Right?”_

_“I guess,” Jensen shrugs, adamant on not letting the facts minimize his pain. “All that proves is that Jared’s always had a crush on the guy and finally got a chance to act on it!”_

_“Why did he confess? He didn’t have to.”_

_“Maybe he wanted to come clean before Morgan outed him. He’d been deleting voice messages all over the place, you know.”_

_Madison leans forward in her chair. “Jensen – there’s a reason office romances are taboo, especially between bosses and subordinates. With stuff like hero worship, personal ambitions, the imbalance of power… consent is always in question. You said he had a few beers. Jared’s always been a lightweight, we know that. Heck, I’ve known it since the first time you brought him home for Thanksgiving and he wouldn’t stop giggling after just one glass of bubbly. So how many is ‘a few’ exactly?”_

_“Don’t know, didn’t ask…”_

_“Maybe you should have! Are you sure you know exactly how things went down that night?”_

_“NO! And I don’t want to, for God’s sake! Madison, I can’t believe you’re defending him against your own brother!”_

_Madison sighs and comes over to kneel beside Jensen’s chair. She has never seen her big brother cry before, not so openly, so hopelessly, like he’ll never be happy again._

_“Please don’t get me wrong, brother. But knowing Jared, I just wonder if he’s being too hard on himself with this, like he is with everything else. Are you absolutely sure he wasn’t manipulated, molested even?”_

 

Jared barely mentions the episode in his letter, gives no excuse, no justification whatsoever. But Jensen now understands beyond doubt that Madison was right all along.

He hates himself for not being there for Jared, for clinging to his anger and his inflated ego, and leaving Jared alone through such a traumatic time. God knows that guilt will weigh heavy on him for as long as he lives. But it’s a mistake he intends to start fixing right fucking now.

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

They don’t make it to the festival that day, but he makes sure they go the day after.

They spot Misha and his children at the apple cider stall.

“Well hello there, beautiful Collins family!” Jensen hollers.

“Hello, hello,” Misha calls back. “Jared! Nice to see you could make it after all!”

“Thanks, yeah,” Jared smiles but shies away from eye contact.

Jensen gives Misha a one-armed hug, thankful as always for his brilliant poker face. It won’t help Jared to find out what they both went through while frantically searching for him the other day.

“Hey there, slugger,” Jared crouches beside little Max. “I hear you’ve been practicing your skiing.”

Max tilts his little head to one side and squints at the tall man. “What’s a slugger?”

Jared smiles and launches into an explanation of the wholly American sports reference for Max's benefit. Meanwhile, Jensen leans towards little Marie perched on Misha’s shoulder and kisses both her cheeks. He catches Misha’s eyes scanning Jared up and down, looking for signs of stress.

“How is he?” he asks, whispering into Jensen’s ear.

“Holding up,” Jensen sighs. “I’m good too, thanks for asking.”

Misha ignores the last bit and nods as if in approval, which makes Jensen smile.

After Misha takes his children home, they stroll further down the street, arm in arm. Jensen nods subtly towards a cute little flower booth on their left. “Think you’ve got an admirer.”

A local woman, dressed in a lovely vintage dirndl as fiery red as the color of her long hair, is watching Jared with interest. Once she catches his eye, she smiles and curtsies lightly. She looks a little familiar, but Jensen can’t quite place her. Jared obviously knows her though. He grins back at her and bows in return, tightening his grip on Jensen’s arm in his excitement. The older man gets the distinct impression that he’s being shown off. Not that he minds.

“Should I be jealous?” he teases Jared.

“Actually you should be thankful.”

“For what?”

Jared just shrugs and walks on, casting one last smile at the gorgeous redhead. Jensen remembers her then – the lady cop who stood hidden behind her peers in the hotel office. The officer who calmly talked Jared away from the edge…

Jensen spins around and bows as gratefully and gallantly as he possibly can. Lieutenant Huffman laughs at him and waves him off, turning her attention back to a trio of kids playing nearby.

“I’m glad you brought me here,” Jared says to him later as they amble back to the hotel.

“I’m glad you had fun.”

He wanted – _needed_ – Jared to see it; this festival that celebrates life and all its blessings, tiny as they might seem on occasion. But mostly he just wants Jared to feel the sun on his face, with Jensen’s hand clasped around his own, and know that he’ll never walk in the darkness alone again.

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

The letter doesn’t come up again, at least not until they’re back stateside and in the bustling city of Austin. It’s a week after Andermatt, a week of Jensen hanging around uselessly, refusing to leave Jared’s side.

“You don’t have to babysit me, you know,” mutters the taller man, one day over breakfast.

“What, baby?”

Jared glares at him and even pouts a little. Jensen wants to kiss him silly, right here in the middle of a crowded restaurant on a Sunday morning.

“You have things to do, Jensen. Much as I enjoy having you around, I don’t want you to not live your life because of me. I don’t need to be watched 24/7.”

“I know that, I’m not… that’s not what I’m…” Jensen gives up on words but reaches across the table to take the artist’s hand, pulling it closer to himself.

Jared isn’t wrong. Jensen _has_ been clingy, overprotective, and unwilling to leave his lover’s side ever since he read that letter. It started back in Switzerland; Jared probably didn’t notice.

“You’ve been doing it since the Chedi. Yeah, I noticed,” Jared gripes, reading his mind.

Jensen licks his lips and wonders how to respond in a way that wouldn’t...

“And there’s this other thing you’re doing – choosing your words so carefully around me, treating me like I’m a frikkin’ glass marionette or something. Just be honest with me, Jensen. I won’t break so easily.”

“You promise?”

It is Jared’s turn to squeeze Jensen’s hand back, reassuring him the only way he is currently capable. He doesn’t make that promise Jensen asks for though. At least, not that day.

 

*****|***|***|*****

 

They are strolling by the river one evening after Jared returns from work. They’re in no hurry to get anywhere or get anything done. They’re somewhat identically dressed, completely by accident, or so Jensen claims – in blue jeans and white shirts of moderately varying shades.

“Jensen?”

“Hmm...”

“Would you… are you able to… move down here with me? Only if you want to, obviously. You can work from Austin, correct?”

“Done. Come with me to New York to help me pack.”

Jared looks happy but is also shaking his head. He knows exactly what Jensen is doing, again. “Seriously?”

“What? I have lots of stuff!”

“Fine,” Jared lets it go. “And then, when we return, I was thinking maybe I should… talk to…someone.”

Jensen stops walking, forcing Jared to halt too. “Thought you didn’t think very highly of shrinks.”

Jared shrugs. “Most of ‘em don’t know what they’re doing. Or they’re too scared to say the wrong thing and get their ass sued. But there’s a Doctor Beaver here at Dell Medical. I used to see him, a long time ago, he… he was cool. And if going to counseling will put your mind at ease then, I’m willing to give it another go.”

Jensen doesn’t know what to say. His eyes are no doubt shining with a desperate ‘yes, yes, please yes’, but he schools his face into a steadfast composure Jared can rely on, and feel safe in, no matter what.

“You know, that’s the first thing I wanted to do once we got back. I know somebody at the Mayo clinic who can get us to the front of the line.”

Jared bites his lip, studies the tips of his shoes intently. “So why didn’t you say anything?”

Jensen shrugs, “Because I know you’d have shot me down.”

Fought him tooth and nail, pushed him away even, and Jensen couldn’t dare risk that. The one thing he _could_ do is educate himself. So he’s been reading up and learning as much as he can about this thing Jared refers to as the ‘darkness.’ He now understands the difference between high-functioning and manic depression. He recognizes Jared as the former, who just happened to hit rock bottom, but has hopefully turned a corner in the last few days.

“Truth is…” Jensen continues after a second, “I didn’t push it because I trust you, babe. You had this under control before. I know you’ll be able to do it again. But getting a little help from the people you trust, that can’t hurt, can it?”

Jared looks up and tries to put on a brave smile.

This wounded, vulnerable, but resilient young man has been fending for himself for a very long time. To finally admit that he could actually use some professional help is a huge step for him, one he’s obviously taking for Jensen. In all his years, Jensen has never felt more grateful, or more honored.

“Jensen, you know, there is no cure. What I have, it can only be managed. There is no making it go away for good…”

“I know, babe. I just don’t want you feeling like you must hide this part of you anymore. That’s all I care about.”

They stand dead-center of the Riverwalk, holding hands, and staring at their intertwined fingers in silence for a long time.

“I’d like to meet this Doctor Beaver too, if that’s okay with you.”

Jared nods and resumes walking again, while Jensen trails a step behind. “You’ll have to pay him too, actually. My insurance doesn’t cover mental health and I blew all my savings on the trip last week so this expense is in the non-essentials bucket for me right now.”

He pauses when he realizes Jensen isn’t following him anymore. He turns to look at him, mild alarm widening his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t lose you again, Jared. You’re very, _very_ essential to me.”

Jared smiles, at least he tries to. “I… will do my best, I promise.”

“That is all I ask.”

“But what I will _not_ do, is go back to the meds.”

Jensen starts. Clearly, Jared read something in his words that he did not intend. Good thing he understands better now what Jared meant in his letter by ‘black lenses.’

“Okay, good to know, baby. I was afraid I’d have to pay for that too.”

It takes a few seconds before Jared rolls his eyes and laughs. Jensen joins in, relieved beyond belief.

Rationally, he knows everyone faces an existential crisis of some kind at least once in their lifetimes. Jensen has had thoughts of ending his life too. Serious thoughts, not like the stupid, off-the-cuff comments that millennials are so quick to make these days.

The first time was after he came out to his parents as a teenager, and his dad told him to get out of his house and never come back again. Though they reconciled a few years later, that stab of betrayal – from a loved one who’s supposed to love you no matter what – it never really went away. The second time was when he separated from Jared. And that was actually, _really_ bad.

But he’s probably one of the lucky ones because – a) his body isn’t predisposed to hormonal imbalances, and b) he’s had other things to keep him going. Like his family, his little niece who’s growing up so fast, passion for his work. Hell, he’s luckier than most, because he’s just discovered another reason to be alive, again.

There is no illness so grave, no secret so big, to keep him from being by Jared’s side. His purpose now is to help Jared find _his_ purpose – one that will sustain itself even if something happens to Jensen and he can’t be there for Jared anymore. He’ll do his best to remind Jared every day of how valuable his artistic gifts are, how valuable he is himself.

“Jensen, hey, where did you go?”

The thirty-six year old pulls himself out of his thoughts and blushes. Jared walks back towards him, a teasing look in his almond eyes. “These long, mental monologues are more my thing, you know.”

“I concur! Really should leave the Gilmore Girling to the experts.”

Jared laughs and draws him into a warm hug for a precious few seconds. When he pulls away, Jensen’s hands reach for the string around the younger man's neck.

“Do you mind if…?”

Jared nods shakily, unable to form words that Jensen does not need to hear. The architect plucks the platinum band off the string, then holds it up like he did on the day of their wedding.

“Jensen, are you… sure?”

“Never been surer of anything else my whole life, baby. I never want us to part again. I love you.”

Jared tears up despite his best efforts to keep it together. “I love you too.”

He gives his left hand to Jensen, trembling. Jensen slips the ring back into place where it belongs. Jared glides into his husband’s arms and let’s himself be held, gently, rocked from side to side.

There’ll be days when love is not going to be enough, Jensen gets that. They’ll also need reservoirs of patience, and selflessness, and more forgiveness than Jared thinks the older man is capable of. But Jensen knows what he’s signing up for, and is prepared to do whatever it takes because Jared is absolutely worth it. Now all he has to do is make sure _Jared_ believes it too. And he will, Jensen promises himself.

 

It is the one and only thing on his bucket list.

 

*****|***| END |***|*****

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Swiss German or French words (they use either interchangeably I swear!):  
> Herr - Mister  
> Die Polizei ist hier - The police is here  
> "Ist alles in Ordnung, Herr Collins?" - "Is everything in order, Mr. Collins?"  
> "Alles ist gut, Herr Roché" - All is well, Mr. Roché  
> "Monsieur Collins, Lieutenant Huffman a trouvé! Elle lui prend retour à l'hôtel. Il semble être bien." - Mr. Collins, Lt. Huffman found him! She is escorting him to the hotel. He seems to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Couple of other things I should clarify:**  
>  \- Apologies if I got the Swiss French or Swiss German lines wrong. There are some subtle differences between the regular and Swiss versions that Google Translate doesn’t recognize.  
> \- Depression manifests differently for different people. And the right solutions also vary from person to person. Some choose to avoid drug treatments and prefer natural remedies like cognitive behavior therapy or yoga. I don’t mean to imply that drugs aren’t needed in all cases. But I do know of cases where medication actually made things worse.  
> \- In this story, Jared is a high-functioning depressive. And being on drugs is anathema to someone like him because they impede his ability to function as the severely independent perfectionist he’s pushing himself so hard to be.  
> \- This isn’t a very action-packed or dramatic story on purpose. Too many people who struggle with depression are mocked for being ‘drama queens’ by folks who don’t understand what they’re going through. It’s why the ones who’re lucky to be more functional go to great lengths to hide their symptoms, act normal, all the while dying inside every minute. I guess with this story I’m trying to point a little flashlight at the storm that brews beneath the surface of deceptively calm waters, without being a drama queen about it.  
> \- If you got to this point, you probably managed to read through the whole thing after all – yay you! I hope it didn’t disappoint, despite the lack of fast-paced action. The title does say splintering in ‘slow motion’ for a reason. Come on, it’s a little funny ;)  
> \- I do not subscribe to any arguments in favor of suicide, just quoting them the way an otherwise logical person might, to try and rationalize the decision. All philosophers I listed, by the way, really did support an individual’s fundamental right to do what they want with their own life. And most of them are actually pretty darn convincing.  
> \- Some geographical features about Andermatt and the hotel have been fictionalized.
> 
>  **Additional resources**  
>  \- If you like, here’s a link to read more about [high-functioning depression](http://www.sheknows.com/health-and-wellness/articles/1123091/high-functioning-depression).  
> \- If you’re interested in the boys’ full backstory, see this [timeline of significant events](https://www.dropbox.com/s/7c2viqa3ju5lt6r/sism2.pdf) in the characters’ lives that ultimately lead to whatever happens in these couple of days.  
> \- This is the hotel that became my inspiration for this fic: [Chedi Andermatt](https://www.thechediandermatt.com/en/The-Chedi/Gallery). References to this establishment are not intended to be disrespectful in any way.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for Splintering in Slow Motion by cyndrarae.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14731613) by [millygal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal)




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